LEISURE  HOUR  SERIES 


VIRGIN     SOIL 


BY 


TURGENIEFF 


Henry  HoLT&Co.PuBLisHEE^ 


NeivYork 


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X,  'VrJ. 

A-  ""  V!^DER,  Mrs. 

.L,  U'T. 

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(IN  I  M  .   1, ,  ii':hts.    a  vols. 

TllF.  CONVICTS. 

I.OK7.KY  ANU  KKINHARD. 

AI.OYS. 

t'OIil  AN!)  MBRCIIANT 

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\VAL!irkl!-l>. 

Hki(  .1  r;  A. 
KV-T-RBOHM,  J. 

•  r, iM.siN  :'i.'jACONiA 

^aS.  HENRY  A. 

A    I    'N:t   KV    or    AMCRICAN 
I.;  1 1  :■  A  1  IKK. 
BJORKSON,  B. 

'V-'A-    I'lSMI-.R   MAlPtN. 

BUTT.   2    M 


CADELL,  Mrs.  H.  M 

Ida  I'KAvi-N'. 
CALVEBLEY.  C.  g. 

J'l.Y-LliAViLS.     yl  volume  of 
vtrsrs. 
"CAVENDISH." 

Card  r.f>.\-.  '"l.-.v's  Decision.? 
•  lui  <.::iM  J  able  I'alk. 

CHERBULIEZ,  V. 

•'  '  ■     .lkUl-'SK);vENGK. 

-,TIA. 

..K.HAN,  ALICE 

:r;  I.a.nc. 

.';P.AVEN,  Mme.  A. 

l-Ll.I'K  ANf;!i. 

DEMOCRACY.  -1  New 
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•I'Hl-  . '.Vl  liS.  ttC. 

DREW,  Catharine. 

Tllr.      I.UTANISTE      OF      ST. 
JACOHI'S. 


DROZ.  GUSTAVE. 

CAIJIII.AIN. 

.•Vk.M'niji  a  srRiNa. 

ERSKINE.  rslrs.  T. 

WvNCorr.. 

FOTHERQILL,  JES- 
SIE. 

■|  Hi:  MRSTVIOLU). 

1  Ki'iiAT:"'-:. 

THK  "■ 
ONE 

FRANv  x.^4..uN,  R.  H. 

l."N!)iiK    :^l.]]\  i.-V,.'.K. 

FREYTAG,   G 

INCO. 
iNr.RA'lAN. 

QADTIER.  T 

CAi'i.AIN  I'f.ACA^SE.     JJJUi. 

GIFT    THEO. 

V 

'.  CT  Girl. 

GOETHE,  J.  W   Von. 

K i.iic'i ixa  A Fi'iNrnKS. 
GRIFFITHS,  Arthur 

l.Ol.A.      - 

GRGHTVTAN.W.   A.  B. 

1    !  vnH    A    PEIMI- 

I  ■  .v.. 

I  Ertf/.^j  jJ.  THOMAS. 
Unhur    the    Greenwoou 


i     :  iiDIHf; 

I  ERTA. 

.-. :-  SATivr- 

1  Hh    i  KUMi-fcl-MArOR. 

HF.INE.   HETNRICH. 
K  A.  'W. 

■3t.'ET. 

JENKil-f.  Mrs.  C. 

WH,.  Hi   VAKfi-PAYS. 


,  OLIPHANT,  ia.r». 

i    v."n:'ihi,AiMr-S. 

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HATKiMo.sy. 

!  PALGRAVE,  W.  Q 

j       il!>;i.1A.'\'N   .\C.HA. 

I  PARR,  LOUISA 

I    llKRO  Cakthi;.v. 
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I    KRsn.rA. 

Ah'.osr,  THE  HILLS. 

RICHARDSON.  S. 

Ci-.\K:-bA  !1a;-.i.owr,    (C«j 

KICHTSR.  J.  P.  F. 


I'J  J.K^. 

J ;  aosslter. 

LAFFAN.  MAY. 

•  '  rlKEARD. 

1 1'.:  V. 

I'l^.L.--.-.  i  i--.«   IKELAWD. 

I  MAJENDIE.Lady  M. 

'"JANKE'I  TO. 

MAXWELL.  CECIL. 

ASVORYOFTHREESiSTERS. 

MOLESWORTH,Mr» 


Ih..:  ...,■.-..    .iTc,;^ 
ROBERTS,  MisB. 

Ni:)i;Ll->SH  (.IHLU-.Fi. 

On  "ti-.v.  i:iif:F.  of  Siov  . 
SCHMID,  H 

'I  ■ !  7  F  1 1  /.  1 1 1 :  !■;  M  !i  I S'.'  :    I  ..■ . 

SLIP  in  the  FENS,  A 
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A  LA2V  .Ni.ANs  i\'cn<K. 
SPIELHAGEN    F. 

WiiATiin-  ■-     •        •  ■  •  «,>ic:. 
THACKE  M. 

EAVri.v  .\.M  .t.S. 

TURGENiEii  ,  I. 

FAlIlhKs  AN'.l  SONS. 

S.MOKE. 

LiZA. 

UN   THP  KVF. 

p.,..-  ..  .,,  , 


T       ,  I.EK.  C.   O.  i" 
^s  Judith. 

■     •       ^.AN. 

VEH3  DE   SOCIETE. 
Vi:^i-.AHI,  LINDA. 

I.N  CHANf.F.   U.VCHAK(;EI>. 

W^ALFORD.  L.  B. 

Mr.  Smith. 
Taumne. 

CotTSINS. 


V. 


OP,   THEO. 

■IE,  tu.r  or  trail. 

.Saddle. 


V  iHERTOFT. 

Ln-E  IN    lliU  OPF-N  Alt. 

W^YLDE.  Katharine. 


%xnmm:vj.x 


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BY    THE    SAME    AUTHOR. 
{Leisure  Hour  Series.) 

FATHERS    AND    SONS. 

SMOKE. 

LIZA. 

ON  THE   EVE. 

DIMITRI  ROUDINE. 

SPRING  FLOODS;  LEAR. 

VIRGIN  SOIL.. 


LEISURE  HOUR  SERIES— No.  SS 


VIRGIN    SOIL 


T 


BY 


IVAN    TURGENIEFF 


TRANSLATED   WITH    THE   AUTHOR'S   SANCTIOIf 


FROM   TUB  FRENCH   VERSION 


By    T.    S.    perry 


NEW  YORK 
HENRY   HOLT  AND   COMPANY 

1877 


Copyright, 

1877. 
By  Henry  Holt. 


JTewTork  ;  J.  J.  Llttlo  &  Co.,  Printers, 
10  to  20  Astor  Place. 


VIRGIN    SOIL. 


I. 

IN  the  spring  of  1868,  toward  one  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, a  young  man  about  twenty-seven  years  old,  negli- 
gently and  even  shabbily  clad,  was  ascending  the  back-stairs 
of  a  five-storied  house  in  Officers  street,  at  St.  Petersburg. 
Shuffling  up  in  his  worn-out  galoshes,  and  balancing  awk- 
wardly his  clumsy,  misshapen  body,  he  at  last  reached  the 
last  step  of  the  staircase,  and  stopped  before  a  dilapidated 
door  which  had  been  left  half  open,  and  then,  without  ring- 
ing the  bell,  but  coughing  loudly  to  announce  his  presence, 
he  entered  a  narrow,  half-lit  anteroom. 

"  Is  Neshdanof  here  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  deep  bass  voice. 

"  No,  it  is  I ;  come  in  !  "  a  rather  harsh  woman's  voice 
answered  from  the  next  room. 

"  Mashurina  ? "  asked  the  new-comer. 

"  Yes — and  you,  Ostrodumof  ? " 

"Pimen  Ostrodumof." 

He  at  once  took  off  his  galoshes,  hung  his  threadbare 
coat  on  a  nail,  and  entered  the  room  whence  the  woman's 
voice  had  issued. 

It  was  a  dingy,  low-studded  room,  with  walls  stained  of  a 
dull  green,  dimly  lit  by  two  dusty  windows.  Its  furniture 
consisted  of  nothing  but  an  iron  bed  in  a  corner,  a  table  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  a  few  chairs,  and  a  stand  heaped 
up  with  piles  of  books. 

Near  the  table  was  sitting  a  woman  about  thirty  years 
old,  bare-headed,  clad  in  a  black  woolen  dress,  who  was 
smoking  a  cigarette.  When  she  saw  Ostrodumof  enter  she 
held  out  her  large  red  hand,  without  a  word.  He  shook 
her  hand  also  without  a  word,  dropped  into  a  chair,  and 
took  from  his  pocket  the  stump  of  a  cigar. 

I 


2  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Mashurina  gave  him  light  for  his  cigar,  and  both,  with- 
out exchanging  a  word,  or  even  a  look,  began  to  puff  clouds 
of  blue  smoke  into  the  close  air  of  the  room,  which  was 
already  saturated  with  tobacco. 

"  Have  you  seen  Neshdanof  ? "  asked  Ostrodumof  at 
last. 

"  Yes  ;  he's  coming.  He  went  to  carry  some  books  to 
the  library." 

"  Why  has  he  been  running  about  so,  lately  ?  "  said  Ostro- 
dumof, turning  aside  to  spit.  "  It  is  impossible  nowadays 
ever  to  find  him." 

"  He's  getting  bored,"  she  replied. 

"  Getting  bored  !  "  repeated  Ostrodumof  reproachfully. 
"What  an  absurdity  !  Just  as  if  we  had  nothing  to  do  ! 
We  are  wondering  how  we  shall  get  through  with  this  job, 
and  he's  getting  bored  !  " 

"  Has  any  letter  come  from  Moscow  ? "  asked  Mashur- 
ina after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  Yes,  day  before  yesterday." 

"  Have  you  read  it  ? " 

Ostrodumof  simply  nodded  his  head. 

"  And  Avhat  was  in  it  ? " 

"  We  shall  have  to  start  soon." 

Mashurina  took  the  cigarette  from  her  mouth.  "  Why 
so  ?  I  understood  that  everything  was  going  on  well  there." 

"  Yes,  everything  is  in  pretty  fair  condition.  But  there 
is  a  man  there  who  is  not  sure — you  understand — he 
must  be  removed,  or  possibly  got  out  of  the  way  altogether. 
And  then  there  are  other  things.  You,  too,  you're  called 
for." 

"  In  the  letter  ? " 

"Yes,  in  the  letter." 

Mashurina  tossed  back  her  thick  hair,  which,  carelessly 
braided  and  fastened  behind,  was  falling  over  her  forehead 
and  brows. 

"Very  well,"  she  said  ;  "if  that  is  the  order  there  is 
nothing  to  be  said." 

"  Of  course.  But  without  money  it  can't  be  done,  and 
where  is  the  money  to  come  from  ? " 

Mashurina  reflected. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  3 

"  Neshdanof  must  get  some,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  as 
if  talking  to  herself. 

"  It  was  just  for  that  I  came,"  remarked  Ostrodumof. 

"  You  have  the  letter  with  you  ? "  asked  Mashurina  sud- 
denly. 

"  Yes.     Do  you  want  to  read  it  ?  " 

"  Give  it  to  me.  No,  don't ;  we  will  read  it  together 
later." 

"  I  told  you  the  truth,"  muttered  Ostrodumof ;  "  you 
need  not  doubt  me." 

"  Oh,  I  know  youMid." 

They^  were  again  silent,  and  again  the  little  puffs  of 
smoke  escaping  from  their  silent  lips  mounted  in  light 
spirals  above  their  curly  heads.  There  was  a  sound  of 
steps  in  the  anteroom. 

"  There  he  is  !  "  murmured  Mashurina. 

The  door  was  thrust  open  and  a  head  slipped  through 
the  opening,  but  it  was  not  Neshdanof's.  It  was  a  round 
face  ;  the  hair  was  black  and  coarse,  the  forehead  broad  and 
wrinkled  ;  the  little  brown  eyes  moved  restlessly  beneath 
the  thick  eyebrows  ;  a  nose  like  a  duck's  beak,  turned  up 
at  the  end,  and  a  little  rosy  mouth  made  up  the  rest  of  the 
face. 

This  head  looked  around,  bowed,  smiled — showing  two 
rows  of  little  white  teeth — and  entered  the  room  at  the 
same  time  with  a  feeble,  short-armed  body,  and  legs  half 
bandy,  half  lame. 

On  seeing  him  both  Mashurina  and  Ostrodumof  v/ore  on 
their  faces  the  same  expression  of  indulgent  disdain,  very 
much  as  if  they  had  said  to  themselves,  "  Oh,  it's  only 
he."  They  made  no  movement  and  uttered  no  sound. 
But  the  new  arrival  so  far  from  being  discouraged  at  this 
reception  seemed  rather  to  be  jjleased  with  it. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ? "  he  cried  with  a  squeaking 
voice.  "  A  duet  ?  Why  not  a  trio  ?  But  where  is  the 
first  tenor  ? " 

"  Is  it  Neshdanof  you  mean,  Mr.  Pakline  ?  "  asked  Os- 
trodumof with  an  earnest  air. 

"  Yes,  exactly,  Mr.  Ostrodumof." 

"  He  will  probably  return  soon,  Mr.  Pakline  " 


4  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  Delighted  to  hear  it,  INIr.  Ostrodumof." 

The  Httle  cripple  turned  toward  Mashurina,  who  sat 
scowling,  still  smoking  her  cigarette. 

"  How  do  you  do,  my  dear — my  dear — oh,  how  stupid  I 
am  !  I  can  never  remember  your  first  name,  nor  that  of 
your  father."  * 

Mashurina  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Why  should  I  tell  you  them  ?  You  know  my  surname. 
What  more  do  you  want  ?  And  why  do  you  ask  how  I  am  ? 
You  see  I'm  not  dead." 

"  True,  perfectly  true  !  "  cried  Pakline,  inflating  his  nos- 
trils and  moving  his  uneven  eyebrows.  "  If  you  were  dead 
your  very  humble  servant  would  not  have  the  pleasure  of  see- 
ing you  here  and  of  talking  with  you.  Consider  my  questions 
as  the  result  of  an  old  bad  habit.  As  for  the  name,  and 
your  father's  name — you  see  it  seems  queer  for  me  to  call 
you  Mashurina  simply.  I  know  you  always  sign  your  let- 
ters Bonaparte — I  mean  Mashurina — but  nevertheless — • 
in  talking.  .  .  ." 

"  But  who  asked  you  to  talk  to  me  ?  " 

Pakline  gave  a  little  nervous  laugh,  as  if  he  had  swallowed 
something  the  wrong  way. 

"  Come,  come,  my  dove,  don't  be  angry,  give  me  your 
hand.  You  are  very  good,  I  know,  and  I  am  not  so  bad. 
Come." 

Pakline  held  out  his  hand.  Mashurina  looked  at  him 
frowningly,  but  yet  she  stretched  out  her  own. 

"  You  are  very  anxious  to  know  my  Christian  name," 
she  said,  without  changing  her  expression  ;  "  well,  it  is 
Fiokla."t 

"  And  mine  Pimen,"  added  Ostrodumof's  deep  voice. 

"  Ah,  this  is  very  instructive,  very  instructive  ;  but  then 


_  *In  Russia  it  is  seldom  that  anyone  is  addressed  in  conversa- 
tion by  his  surname  ;  the  Christian  name  alone  would  be  loo  intimate 
or  too  familiar.  The  customary  form  of  address — which  has  the  ad- 
vantage of  being  familiar  with  inferiors  and  respectful  with  superiors- 
is  like  the  ancient  Greek  formula,  Achilles  Peliades,  or  son  of  l^eleus. 
Thus  the  author  of  this  novel  is  called  Ivan  Sergeitch,  that  is  to  say, 
Ivan  the  son  of  Serge. —  Tr. 
fThat  is,  Thekla.— 7>. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  5 

tell  me,  O  Fiokla,  and  you,  O  Pimen,  why  you  always  treat 
me  so  coldly,  while  I — " 

"  Mashurina  thinks,  and  she  is  not  alone  in  her  opinion," 
interrupted  Ostrodumof,  "  that  it  is  impossible  to  have  con- 
fidence in  you  because  you  always  look  at  things  from  the 
ridiculous  side." 

Pakline  turned  quickly  on  his  heels. 

"Ah,  thosd"  who  judge  me  always  make  the  same  mis- 
take, my  dear  Pimen.  In  the  first  place,  I'm  not  always 
laughing,  and  then  it  doesn't  mean  anything,  and  it  is  pos- 
sible to  have  confidence  in  me.  The  proof  of  this  is  the 
flattering  confidence  which  has  been  shown  me  more  than 
once  by  your  friends.    I'm  an  honest  man,  my  dear  Pimen." 

Ostrodumof  muttered  something  between  his  teeth,  and 
Pakline,  shaking  his  head,  repeated,  but  this  time  without  a 
smile,  "  No,  I'm  not  always  laughing  ;  I'm  not  a  happy 
man  ;  just  look  at  me  !  " 

Ostrodumof  raised  his  eyes  to  his  face.  In  fact,  when 
Pakline  was  not  laughing  or  talking,  his  face  wore  an  expres- 
sion of  sadness  mingled  with  dread  ;  this  expression  became 
comical  and  even  mischievous  the  moment  he  opened  his 
mouth.  But  Ostrodumof  kept  silence.  Pakline  turned 
again  toward  Mashurina. 

"  And  how  are  your  studies  getting  on  ?  Are  you 
making  progress  in  your  philanthropic  art  ?  It  must  be  a 
hard  business  helping  an  inexperienced  citizen  to  make  his 
first  appearance  in  the  world,  eh  ? " 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,  provided  the  little  citizen  is  not  much 
bigger  than  you  are,"  answered  Mashurina  smiling  with  a 
satisfied  air. 

Mashurina  had  just  received  the  diploma  of  midwife. 
Eighteen  months  before  she  had  left  her  family — who  were 
nobles  of  moderate  wealth  in  the  south  of  Russia — and 
she  had  come  to  St.  Petersburg  vvith  six  rubles  in  her 
pocket ;  she  had  entered  the  school  of  obstetrics,  and  by 
hard  work  she  had  reached  the  grade  she  wanted.  She 
was  unmarried  and  very  chaste.  "  Nothing  remarkable  !  " 
a  skeptic  will  cry,  remembering  what  we  said  of  her  ap- 
pearance. "  An  astonishing  and  rare  thing,"  we  shall  take 
the  liberty  of  saying  in  our  turn. 


6  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

While  waiting  for  Mashurina's  answer  Pakline  began  to 
laugh. 

"  A  fair  hit !  "  he  said.  "  Ah,  you're  quick  at  repartee  ! 
That  will  be  a  lesson  for  me.  Well,  why  have  I  remained 
so  small  ?  But  our  friend  doesn't  return.  I  wonder  what 
he  is  about." 

Pakline  changed  the  subject  of  conversation  intention- 
ally. He  had  never  been  al)le  to  resign  himself  to  his  mi- 
croscopic figure,  to  his  frail  physique.  These  physical 
faults  were  so  much  the  more  painful  to  him,  because  he 
adored  women.  To  please  them,  what  would  he  not  have 
given  ?  The  consciousness  of  deformity  tormented  him  more 
cruelly  than  the  lowliness  of  his  birth  or  the  mediocrity  of  his 
position.  Pakline's  father,  a  simple  citizen  who  had  become 
honorary  counselor  by  various  tricks,  had  been  a  sort  of 
business  man  who  was  consulted  in  matters  requiring  arbi- 
tration, and  to  whom  was  occasionally  confided  the  man- 
agement of  an  estate  or  a  house.  In  business  of  this  sort 
he  had  accumulated  a  modest  competency  ;  but  having 
taken  to  drink  in  his  old  age,  he  had  left  nothing  behind 
him.  The  young  Pakline  was  named  Sila  Samsonitch,  that 
is  to  say,  Strength,  son  of  Samson  (which  he  thought  was 
another  mockery  of  fate)  ;  he  was  educated  in  a  commer- 
cial college,  where  he  had  learned  German  very  thoroughly. 
After  many  disagreeable  adventures  he  at  last  found  a  place 
in  a  counting-house  that  brought  him  in  a  salary  of  fifteen 
hundred  rubles.  With  these  slender  means  he  supported 
not  only  himself,  but  also  a  sick  aunt,  and  his  sister,  who 
was  a  hunchback.  He  was  just  twenty-seven  years  old  at 
the  time  our  story  begins.  He  had  struck  acquaintance 
with  a  great  number  of  students,  youths  whom  he  pleased 
by  his  hardy  cynicism,  by  cheerfulness  and  impudence,  and 
by  his  learning,  which  was  limited,  to  be  sure,  but,  so  far  as 
it  went,  sound  and  void  of  pedantry.  That  did  not  prevent 
his  sometimes  being  made  fun  of  by  them.  One  day,  for 
example,  when  he  happened  to  be  late  at  a  political  meet- 
ing, and  began  modestly  to  apologize,  a  voice  in  a  corner 
began  to  sing,  "  Our  poor  Pakline  is  a  most  valiant  warrior," 
and  every  one  burst  out  laughing.  Finally  Pakline  joined 
in  the  laughter,  although  his  heart  was  black  with  anger. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  7 

"  The  rascal  has    put   his   finger  on   the  sore    spot,"  he 
said  to  himself. 

He  had  made  Neshdanof's  acquaintance  in  a  Greek 
eating-house  where  he  took  his  meals,  and  where  he  uttered 
very  free  and  very  pronounced  opinions.  He  used  to  pre- 
tend that  the  original  cause  of  these  democratic  tendencies 
was  just  this  atrocious  Greek  cooking,  which  disturbed  his 
liver. 

"  Yes  ;  where  the  devil  can  he  be  ? "  repeated  Pakline. 
"  I've  noticed  he  has  been  out  of  sorts  for  some  time.  Can 
he  be  in  love  ? "       •" 

Mashurina  frowned. 

"  He' has  gone  to  the  library  to  get  some  books.  As  for 
being  in  love,  he  has  other  fish  to  fry,  and  besides,  with 
whom  could  it  be  ?  " 

"  With  you,"  Pakline  was  on  the  point  of  answering,  but 
he  contented  himself  with  saying  : 

"  I  Avant  to  talk  with  him  on  some  important  matters." 

"  What  matters  ? "  asked  Ostrodumof.    "  Our  business  ? " 

"  Yours,  perhaps — ours,  I  mean." 

Ostrodumof  uttered  an  ahem  !  He  felt  a  certain  mis- 
trust, but  he  said  to  himself  at  once,  "  After  all,  who 
knows  ?     This  eel  creeps  in  everywhere." 

"  Here  he  is  at  last,"  said  Mashurina  suddenly,  and  in 
her  dark-ringed  eyes,  turned  toward  the  door  of  the  ante- 
room, there  had  flashed  a  sort  of  warm  and  tender  glow, 
like  a  little  luminous  spot. 

The  door  opened,  and  there  entered  this  time  a  young 
man  of  twenty-three,  with  a  cap  on  his  head  and  a  pile  of 
books  under  his  arm  ;  it  was  Neshdanof. 


II. 

WHEN  he  saw  the  three  visitors,  Neshdanof  stopped 
on  the  threshold,  glanced  at  them  all,  threw  off  his 
cap,  let  his  books  fall  carelessly  upon  the  floor,  and,  with- 
out saying  a  word,  sat  down  on  the  foot  of  his  bed. 

His  pleasant  face,  with  its  fair  complexion,  which  the 
dark  tint  of  his  thick,  ruddy-brown  hair  made  appear  even 
fairer,  expressed  discontent  and  vexation.  Mashurina 
turned  away  a  little,  biting  her  lip.  Ostrodumof  murmured, 
'v\tlast!" 

Pakline  approached  Neshdanof. 

"  ^^^lat  has  happened  to  you,  Alexis  Dimitri^'itch,  Rus- 
sian Hamlet  ?  Has  any  one  made  you  angry  ?  Or  have 
you  fallen  into  this  melancholy  fit  all  by  yourseK  ? " 

"  Leave  me  alone,  ]\Iephistopheles,"  answered  Nesh- 
danof impatiently.  ''  I've  not  time  to  waste  sharpening  my 
wits  against  yours." 

Pakline  began  to  laugh. 

''  You  don't  express  yourself  correctly,  my  dear  fellow  ; 
what  is  naturally  dull  can't  be  made  sharp." 

"  Very  good,  very  good  ;  we  all  know  how  witty  you 
are." 

"And  you.  your  nerves  are  in  a  wretched  state,"  an- 
swered Pakline  slowly.  "  Has  anything  extraordinary 
really  happened  to  you  ?  " 

'*  Nothing  extraordinary- ;  it  only  happens  that  no  one 
can  put  his  nose  out  of  doors  in  this  vile  place  without 
running  across  some  \illainy,  some  foolishness,  some  absurd 
injustice,  some  stupidity.     It's  impossible  to  live  here." 

"  That's  why  you  have  advertised  for  a  situation,  and 
why  you  would  like  to  leave  St.  Petersburg,"  Ostrodumof 
went  on  muttering. 

*'  Certainly  I  shall  leave,  and  gladly,  provided  I  can  find 
any  one  stupid  enough  to  offer  me  a  place." 
8 


VIRGIN  SOU.  9 

''  First  of  all,  one  should  perform  his  duty  here,"  said 
Mashurina  meaningly,  but  with  her  eyes  still  averted. 

"  That  is  to  say  ?  "  asked  Neshdanof,  wheeling  about 

Mashurina  closed  her  lips. 

**  Ostrodumof  will  explain,"  she  said  finally. 

Neshdanof  turned  toward  Ostrodumof,  but  he  coughed 
and  said  merely  :  ^ 

"By  and  by." 

"  Come,  seriously,"  continued  Pakline,  "'  have  you  heard 
anything  disagreeable  ? " 

Neshdanof  sprang  from  the  bed,  as  if  impelled  by  a 
spring. 

"  Eh'! '  what  is  there  that  isn't  disagreeable  ?  "  he  shout- 
ed. "  Half  of  Russia  is  starving  ;  the  Moscow  Gazette  is 
triumphant  ;  they  are  introducing  classicism  amongst  us  ; 
they  forbid  students  forming  subscription  clubs  ;  there  is 
spying  everywhere,  and  denunciation,  lying,  and  treachery  ; 
no  one  can  take  a  single  step.  And  all  that  is  not  enough  ! 
He  must  have  some  other  disagreeable  thing  !  He  asks 
me  if  I  am  speaking  seriously." 

"  Bassanof  has  been  arrested,"  he  added,  lowering  his 
voice  ;  "  some  one  just  told  me  at  the  library." 

Ostrodumof  and  Mashurina  raised  their  heads  at  the 
same  time. 

"My  dear  Alexis  Dimitrivitch,"  began  Pakline,  "you 
are  agitated,  naturally — but  do  you  forget  at  what  time,  in 
what  country  you  are  living  ?  With  us  the  drowning  man 
must  make  his  own  wisp  of  straw  to  catch  at.  There  is  no 
use  indulging  our  feelings  over  it !  See,  my  friend,  we  must 
learn  to  look  the  devil  in  the  face,  and  not  lose  our  temper 
like  children." 

"  Oh  !  stop,  please  !  That's  enough,"  interrupted  Nesh- 
danof in  agony,  his  features  drawn  as  if  by  physical  pain. 
"We  understand,  you  are  an  energetic  man,  you're  not 
afraid  of  anything  or  anybody — " 

"  Afraid  of  anybody,  I  ?  "  murmured  Pakline.    "  Come, 


come 


"  But  who  could  have  betrayed  Bassanof  ?      I  don't  un- 
derstand that  at  all." 

"  Some    friend,    of    course  !  "  Pakline   added   quickly 


lo  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  Friends  can't  be  beaten  in  that  line.  It  is  with  them  one 
has  always  to  be  on  his  guard.  I,  for  instance,  I  had  a 
friend,  such  a  good  fellow  !  he  grew  anxious  about  me, 
about  my  reputation.  One  day  he  came  to  my  room  : 
'  Just  fancy,'  he  said  to  me,  '  what  a  stupid  calumny  has 
been  spread  abroad  about  you  ;  they  say  you  poisoned  your 
uncle  ;  that  in  a  house  where  you  had  just  been  introduced 
you  turned  your  back  on  your  hostess,  and  stayed  so  all 
the  evening,  while  she,  poor  woman,  was  crying  with  mor- 
tification. What  stupidity  !  What  idiots  people  must  be 
to  invent  such  scandalous  stories  ! '  Well,  only  think,  the 
next  year  I  happened  to  quarrel  with  him,  and  I  received  a 
letter  from  him,  in  which  he  said,  '  You,  who  have  killed 
your  uncle  !  You,  who  were  not  ashamed  to  insult  a  wor- 
thy lady  by  turning  your  back  on  her  !  '  etc.,  etc.  That's 
what  friends  are  !  " 

Ostrodumof  exchanged  a  glance  with  Mashurina. 

"Alexis  Dimitrivitch,"  he  began  in  his  deep  voice,  evi- 
dently desiring  to  put  an  end  to  this  waste  of  words,  "  we 
have  received  from  Moscow  a  letter  from  Vasily  Nicolai'- 
vitch." 

Neshdanof  gave  a  little  start  and  lowered  his  eyes. 

"  What  does  he  say  ?  "  he  asked  at  last. 

"  She  and  I,"  Ostrodumof  indicated  his  neighbor  by  a 
slight  movement  of  the  eyebrows,  "  we  are  to  leave." 

"  What  !     Is  she  summoned  too  ? " 

''  She  is." 

"  Well,  why  do  you  delay  ?  " 

■'  For  a  very  simple  reason — lack  of  money." 

Neshdanof  stood  up  and  walked  toward  the  window. 

"  How  much  do  you  need  ?  " 

"  Fifty  rubles,  not  a  kopeck  less." 

Neshdanof  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  I  haven't  so  much  at  this  moment,"  he  muttered,  beat- 
ing the  pane  with  his  fingers,  "  but — I  can  get  it.  I  will 
get  it.     Have  you  the  letter  with  you  ?  " 

"  The  letter  !     It — that  is  to  say — of  course — " 

"  Why  do  you  always  affect  secresy  before  me  ? "  asked 
Pakline.  "  Have  I  not  deserved  your  confidence  ?  and 
even  if  I  should  not  sympathize  entirely  with — your  pro- 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  II 

jects — do  you  really  think  I  would  betray  or  let  out  your 
secret  ? " 

"  Unintentionally  perhaps,"  growled  Ostrodumof. 

"  Neither  with  nor  without  intention  !  There  is  Miss 
Mashurina,  who  looks  at  me  and  smiles — and  I  tell  you — " 

"I'm  not  smiling  at  all,"  answered  Mashurina  angrily. 

"And  I  tell  you,  gentlemen,"  continued  Pakline,  "that 
you  don't  show  the  least  sagacity,  that  you  can't  distinguish 
our  real  friends  !  Because  some  one  laughs  now  and  then, 
you  imagine  he  can't  be  in  earnest — " 

"  Exactly  !  "  ans\gered  Mashurina  in  the  same  tone. 

"  See,  for  instance,"  Pakline  went  on,  without  noticing 
the  interruption,  "  you  need  money — Neshdanof  at  this  mo- 
ment has  none — well,  I  can  give  you  some." 

Neshdanof  suddenly  left  the  window. 

"  No,  no,  what's  the  use  ?  I  shall  get  some.  I  shall 
draw  my  money  in  advance.  I  remember,  they  owe  me 
something.  But,  by  the  way,  Ostrodumof,  show  me  the 
letter." 

Ostrodumof  remained  motionless  for  a  moment,  then 
he  looked  around,  leaned  forward,  pulled  up  the  leg  of  his 
trowsers,  and  drew  from  his  boot  a  carefully  folded  piece 
of  paper  ;  he  blew  on  the  paper — no  one  knows  why — and 
handed  it  to  Neshdanof. 

He,  after  unfolding  and  reading  it  carefully,  gave  it  to 
Mashurina,  who,  having  risen  from  her  chair,  read  it  in  her 
turn  and  gave  it  back  to  Neshdanof,  although  Pakline  held 
out  his  hand  to  take  it.  Neshdanof  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  silently  offered  the  letter  to  Pakline,  who,  after  he  had 
read  it,  pursed  his  lips  together  in  a  significant  way,  and 
put  it  on  the  table  without  saying  a  word.  Then  Ostro- 
dumof struck  a  large  match,  which  gave  forth  a  strong 
smell  of  sulphur,  and  after  he  had  lifted  the  paper  above 
his  head  as  if  to  show  it  to  them  all,  he  set  fire  to  it  with 
the  match  and  let  it  burn  to  the  last  scrap,  without  sparing 
his  fingers  ;  then  he  threw  the  ash  into  the  fire. 

No  one  had  uttered  a  word  nor  moved  during  this  per- 
formance. All  looked  at  the  floor  ;  Ostrodumof  seemed 
sunk  in  serious  meditation ;  Neshdanof's  face  wore  an 
almost  savage  expression  ;  Pakline's  indicated  an  anxious 


12  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

struggle  ;  as  for  Mashurina,  she  seemed  to  be  assisting  at  a 
solemn  religious  ceremony. 

Two  minutes  passed  in  this  way.  Then  they  all  felt  a 
little  embarrassed.  It  was  Pakline  who  first  broke  the 
silence. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "do  you  accept,  yes  or  no,  my  offering 
on  the  altar  of  my  country  ?  May  I  contribute,  if  not  fifty 
rubles,  at  least  twenty-five  or  thirty  for  the  common  cause  ?  " 

Neshdanof  burst  out  suddenly.  The  bad  temper  which 
was  seething  within  him,  and  had  been  only  in  part  appeased 
by  the  burning  of  the  letter,  was  but  awaiting  an  oppor- 
tunity to  show  itself. 

"  I  told  you  it  was  useless — do  you  understand,  useless  ! 
I  shall  not  permit  it — I  shall  not  take  the  money  !  I  shall 
get  some,  and  at  once.     I  don't  need  any  one's  aid." 

•'  Come,  my  friend,"  said  Pakline,  "  I  see  you're  a  revo- 
lutionist, but  you're  not  a  democrat." 

'■'  Say  at  once  that  I'm  an  aristocrat !  " 

"  Well,  certainly  you're  an  aristocrat — up  to  a  certain 
point." 

Neshdanof  laughed  constrainedly. 

"  You  refer  to  my  irregular  birth.  You're  taking  unnec- 
essary trouble,  my  dear  fellow.  There's  no  need  of  your 
reminding  me." 

"  Why,  Alexis,  what  ails  you  ?  How  can  you  take  what 
I  say  in  this  way  ?  You  seem  very  strange  to-day."  Nesh- 
danof moved  his  head  and  shoulders  impatiently.  "  The 
arrest  of  Bassanof  has  upset  you — but  then  he  was  so  im- 
prudent— " 

"  He  said  whatever  he  thought,"  remarked  Mashurina 
gloomily.     "  It's  not  for  us  to  blame  him." 

"  True,  but  he  might  have  thought  of  the  others  whom 
perhaps  he  is  compromising  now." 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  of  him  ? "  roared  Ostrodumof 
in  his  turn.  "  Bassanof  is  a  verv  energetic  man.  He  will 
not  betray  any  one.  And  as  for  prudence — do  you  want 
to  know  my  opinion  ?  It  is  not  given  to  every  one  to  be 
prudent,  Mr.  Pakline." 

Pakline,  who  was  offended,  was  on  the  point  of  replying, 
but  Neshdanof  cut  him  short. 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


13 


"  Gentlemen,"  he  cried,  "  listen  to  me  ;  let  us  leave  poli- 
tics alone  for  a  while." 

There  was  a  silence.  It  was  again  Pakline  who  started 
the  conversation. 

"  I  met  Skoropikin  this  morning,  the  great  esthetic  critic 
of  all  the  Russias.  What  an  unendurable  creature  !  Always 
sparkling  and  bubbling  !  He  reminds  you  of  a  bottle  of 
kislitchi.*  The  waiter  who  has  poured  it  out  tries  to  stop 
it  with  his  finger  instead  of  a  cork  ;  a  swollen  grape-seed 
sticks  in  the  neck  of  the  bottle  ;  it  spurts  and  hisses,  and 
when  all  the  foam  is  ^ne,  there  is  nothing  left  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  bottle  but  a  few  drops  of  vile  stuff  which  does 
not  quendh  your  thirst,  and  gives  you  a  colic  to  boot.  This 
Skoropikin  is  a  man  who  is  dangerous  for  young  people." 

The  comparison  Pakline  had  made,  exact  as  it  was,  did 
not  bring  a  smile  to  the  face  of  any  one.  Ostrodumof 
alone  said  that  young  people  who  were  capable  of  taking 
an  interest  in  "  esthetics  "  did  not  deserve  pity,  even  if  the 
great  critic  made  them  lose  their  good  sense. 

"  Oh  !  but  I  beg  your  pardon  !  allow  me  !  "  said  Pakline 
hotly  (he  always  grew  more  excited  the  less  he  was  ap- 
proved) ;  "  the  question,  although  not  a  political  one,  is 
yet  very  important.  If  we  can  believe  Skoropikin,  every 
ancient  work  of  art  is  worthless,  just  because  it  is  ancient. 
But,  in  that  case,  art  is  nothing  but  fashion,  and  there  is 
no  use  talking  about  it  seriously  !  If  in  art  there  is  not 
something  unvariable,  eternal,  the  devil  may  take  it  !  In 
science,  in  the  mathematics,  for  example,  do  you  consider 
Euler,  Laplace,  Gauss,  as  old,  worn-out  hacks  ?  No  ;  you 
recognize  their  authority.  But  for  you,  Raphael  and  Mo- 
zart are  idiots,  and  your  pride  revolts  against  their  author- 
ity. The  laws  of  art  are  harder  to  discover  than  those  of 
science,  I  confess  ;  but  they  exist,  and  he  who  denies  their 
existence  is  blind,  whether  willfully  or  not  is  of  little  impor- 
tance." 

Pakline  stopped.  They  all  remained  silent,  as  if  each 
had  bitten  his  tongue,  or  as  if  they  felt  great  compassion 
for  him.     Ostrodumof  alone  growled  out : 

*  A  fermented,  efTervescent  drink,  containing  raisins,  sugar,  etc. —  Tr. 


14  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"All  that  doesn't  prevent  my  having  no  regard  for  the 
young  men  who  let  themselves  be  stupefied  by  Skoropikin." 

"  Let  them  go  to  the  devil !  I'm  off  !  "  said  Pakline  to 
himself. 

He  had  come  to  Neshdanof's  room  to  express  his  views 
on  tlie  introduction  into  Russia  of  copies  of  the  Polar  Star 
(the  Cloche  wvLS  already  discontinued  at  that  time);  but  the 
conversation  having  taken  so  unfortunate  a  turn,  he  thought 
it  more  prudent  not  to  discuss  the  matter. 

He  was  already  taking  up  his  hat,  when  suddenly,  before 
any  previous  sound  had  given  them  warning,  a  voice  was 
heard  in  the  anteroom. 

"  Is  Mr.  Neshdanof  at  home  ?  " 

It  was  a  very  agreeable,  modulated,  full  baritone  voice  ; 
the  tone  suggested  ideas  of  distinction,  of  perfect  ele- 
gance, even  of  exquisite  perfumes.  They  all  looked  at  one 
another  in  amazement. 

Is  Mr.  Neshdanof  at  home  ?  "  the  voice  repeated. 
Yes,"  Neshdanof  at  last  replied. 

The  door  was  gently  opened  with  a  light,  uniform  move- 
ment, and  on  the  threshold  appeared  a  man  about  forty 
years  old,  tall,  well  made,  almost  majestic,  who,  slowly  re- 
moving his  hat,  disclosed  a  handsome  head  with  close-cut 
hair.  He  was  dressed  in  a  superb  overcoat  of  English 
cloth,  the  collar  of  which,  although  it  was  the  end  of  April, 
was  lined  with  beaver ;  the  visi4:or  struck  them  all,  Nesh- 
danof, Pakline,  Mashurina  herself — even  Ostrodumof — by 
the  noble  ease  of  his  bearing  and  the  kindly  serenity  of  his 
approach. 

They  all  rose  involuntarily  when  they  saw  him  appear. 


It 


III. 

THIS  elegant  visitor  walked  toward  Neshdanof,  and 
said,  with  an  affable  smile  : 

"  I  have  already  hSd  the  pleasure  of  meeting  and  even 
of  talking  with  you,  Mr.  Neshdanof — the  day  before  yes- 
terday, if  you  remember,  at  the  theater." 

Here  he  paused,  waiting  for  a  reply.  Neshdanof  nodded 
his  head  and  blushed. 

"  Yes  ;  and  to-day  I  have  come  to  see  you  on  account 
of  the  advertisement  you  put  in  the  paper.  I  should  like 
to  talk  this  over  with  you,  if  it  will  not  inconvenience  your 
friends." 

He  bowed  to  Mashurina,  and  waved  his  hand,  encased  in 
a  gant  de  Suede,  toward  Ostrodumof  and  Pakline.  "  And 
if  I  do  not  disturb  them — " 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all !  "  answered  Neshdanof  con- 
strainedly ;  "  my  friends  will  be  very  glad — won't  you  be 
good  enough  to  take  a  chair  ?  " 

The  visitor  bowed  graciously  and  took  hold  of  the  back 
of  a  chair,  but  he  did  not  sit  down — for  everybody  in  the 
room  was  standing — and  turned  his  bright  and  sharp,  though 
half-closed,  eyes  in  every  direction. 

"Good-by,  Alexis  Dimitrivitch,"  said  Mashurina  sud- 
denly ;  "  I  shall  be  in  again  soon." 

"  So  shall  I,"  added  Ostrodumof  ;  "  so  shall  I,  very  soon." 

And  with  a  sort  of  bravado  Mashurina,  going  past  the 
visitor,  took  Neshdanof's  hand,  which  she  shook  heartily, 
and  then  left  the  room,  without  bidding  any  one  else  good- 
by.  Ostrodumof  followed  her  out,  stamping  his  heels  on 
the  floor  rather  more  loudly  than  was  necessary  ;  he  even 
shrugged  his  shoulders  twice,  as  if  to  say,  "  So  much  for 
you  and  your  beaver  collar  !  " 

The  visitor's  eyes  followed  them  with  a  polite  but  some- 

15 


x6  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

what  curious  look,  which  was  then  turned  on  Pakhne,  as  if 
with  the  expectation  that  he  would  follow  the  two  others. 
But  Pakline,  whose  face,  since  the  new-comer's  arrival,  wore 
a  sort  of  repressed  smile,  had  shrunk  into  himself  and  re- 
treated into  a  corner.  When  he  saw  this,  the  visitor  sat 
down.     Neshdanof  did  the  same. 

"  My  name  is  Sipiagin  ;  it  is,  perhaps,  not  wholly  unknown 
to  you,"  he  began  with  self-conscious  modesty. 

But,  first  of  all,  it  must  be  told  how  Neshdanof  met  him 
at  the  theater.  The  play  was  Alexander  Ostrovsky's  "  Don't 
Sit  in  Another's  Sleigh."  Early  in  the  morning  Neshdanof 
had  gone  to  the  box-office,  which  was  crowded.  He  had 
intended  to  take  a  place  in  the  pit,  but  as  he  was  approach-_ 
ing  the  little  window,  an  officer  close  behind  him  held  out' 
a  three  ruble  bill  over  Neshdanof's  head,  saying  to  the 
ticket-seller  : 

"  You  will  probably  have  to  give  this  gentleman  change. 
I've  just  the  right  sum  here  ;  give  me,  please,  an  orchestra 
chair  on  the  second  row.     I'm  in  something  of  a  hurry." 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  said  Neshdanof  curtly.  "  I  want  an 
orchestra  chair  on  the  second  row,  too." 

With  these  words  he  tossed  the  ticket-seller  a  three-ruble 
bill,  his  whole  fortune,  and  that  evening  he  found  himself 
in  the  aristocratic  part  of  the  Alexandra  Theater.  Being 
rather  ill  dressed  and  without  gloves,  in  unblacked  boots, 
he  felt  ill  at  ease  and  angry  with  himself  for  his  mortifica- 
tion. His  neighbor  on  the  right  was  a  general,  glittering 
with  decorations,  and  on  the  left  was  his  present  visitor. 
Privy  Counsellor  Sipiagin,  whose  arrival  two  days  later  was 
destined  to  so  amaze  Mashurina  and  Ostrodumof. 

The  general  cast  his  eyes  at  intervals  toward  Neshda- 
nof, as  if  he  were  some  unpleasant  object,  disagreeable 
and  even  painful  to  the  sight  ;  as  for  Sipiagin,  his  side 
glances  were  not  at  all  unfriendly.  Those  among  whom 
Neshdanof  was  sitting  were  great  personages  ;  they  all 
knew  one  another,  and  they  exchanged  short  phrases,  com- 
pliments, and  simple  exclamations,  which  sometimes  passed 
over  Neshdanof's  head,  as  had  been  the  case  that  morning 
at  the  box-office.  He  sat  quiet  but  unhappy  in  his  broad, 
comfortable  chair,  feeling  like  a  Pariah.    Shame,  bitterness, 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


17 


all  sorts  of  evil  emotions  filled  his  heart.  Suddenly,  to  his 
great  surprise,  his  left-hand  neighbor,  not  the  decorated 
general,  but  the  other,  who  wore  no  orders  on  his  chest, 
addressed  him  politely  with  an  air  of  kindness  and  an  ap- 
parent desire  to  please.  He  spoke  of  the  play  ;  he  asked 
Neshdanof,  as  a  representative  of  the  younger  generation, 
what  he  thought  of  the  piece.  Astonished,  almost  fright- 
ened, Neshdanof  answered  at  first  only  in  monosyllables,  in 
a  broken  voice — to  tell  the  truth,  his  heart  was  beating 
strongly.  Then  he  felt  angry  with  himself  again  :  why  in 
the  world  should  he  be  so  disturbed  ?  Wasn't  his  neighbor 
a  man  like  any  one  else  ? 

H^  be'gan  to  express  his  ideas  without  hesitation  and 
without  reserve  ;  finally,  he  grew  sckenthusiastic  and  spoke 
so  loudly,  that  his  right-hand  neighbor  was  evidently  irri- 
tated. Neshdanof  was  a  warm  admirer  of  Ostrovsky  ;  but 
with  all  his  respect  for  the  talent  shown  by  the  author  in 
this  comedy,  he  could  not  commend  his  evident  inclina- 
tion to  throw  contempt  on  civilization,  such  as  was  but 
too  plain  in  his  exaggerated  drawing  of  Vikhoref.*  His 
good-natured  neighbor  listened  to  him  attentively 
and  pleasantly,  and  when  the  next  act  was  over,  he  re- 
sumed the  conversation,  not  about  Ostrovsky's  comedy, 
but  more  generally  on  every-day  matters,  and  scientific  and 
political  questions.  He  was  evidently  interested  in  his 
young  and  eloquent  acquaintance.  Not  only  had  Nesh- 
danof overcome  his  shyness,  but  at  times  he  put  on  steam, 
as  they  say. 

"  Ah  !  "  he  thought  to  himself,  "  you  are  inquisitive,  are 
you  ?     I'll  show  you  something  for  your  pains." 

As  for  his  neighbor  on  the  other  side,  what  he  felt  was 
no  longer  discomfort,  but  indignation  and  suspicion.  At 
the  end  of  the  play  Sipiagin  took  leave  of  Neshdanof  in 
the  most  friendly  way,  although  without  asking  his  name  or 
giving  his  own. 

*  In  the  play  Vikhoref  is  a  ruined  spendthrift,  who  wins  tlie  love 
of  the  daughter  of  a  rich  merchant  in  a  small  town,  and  abducts  her, 
in  order  that  their  marriage  may  not  be  prevented.  Wiiether  inten- 
tionally or  not,  the  author  has  contrasted  the  patriarchal  simplicity 
of  old  times  with  modern  depravity. 


l8  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

While  he  was  waiting  for  his  carnage  in  front  of  the 
theater,  he  met  one  of  his  intimate  friends,  Prince  G.,  an 
aide-de-camp  of  the  Emperor. 

"I  saw  you  from  my  box,"  said  the  prince  smiling 
through  his  perfumed  mustaches.  "  Do  you  know  who  it 
was  you  were  talking  to  ?  " 

"■  No,  I  do  not,  do  you  ?  " 

"  A  bright  fellow,  isn't  he  ?  " 

I*  Very  bright.     Who  is  he  ?  " 

"  My  brother ;  yes,  my  brother.  A  natural  son  of  my 
fatlier — he's  named  Neshdanof.  I'll  tell  you  about  it — my 
father  didn't  expect  him,  that's  why  he  named  him  Nesh- 
danof. *  But  he  took  an  interest  in  him — //  lui  a  fait  un 
sort.  We  give  him  an  allowance.  He's  an  intelligent  fel- 
low ;  thanks  to  my  father,  he  has  received  a  good  educa- 
tion. Only  he  is  a  fanatic,  a  republican.  We  see  nothing 
of  him — quite  out  of  the  question,  you  know,  Biit  there's 
my  carriage.     Good  night  !  " 

The  prince  drove  off.  The  next  day  Sipiagin  came 
across  Neshdanof's  advertisement  and  he  went  to  see  him. 
_  "  My  name  is  Sipiagin,"  he  said  to  Neshdanof,  taking 
his  seat  on  a  straw  chair  opposite  the  young  man,  whom 
he  scrutinized  carefully.  "  I  saw  in  the  paper  that  you  are 
anxious  to  find  a  situation  with  some  family,  and  this  is 
what  I  have  come  to  propose  to  you.  I  am  married  ;  I 
have  a  son  nine  years  old,  a  bright  little  boy,  I'm  not 
ashamed  to  say.  We  shall  go  into  the  country  for  a  part 
of  the  summer  and  the  autumn,  in  the  district  of  S.,  five 
versts  from  the  principal  town.  Would  you  not  like  to  ac- 
company us  during  the  vacation,  to  teach  my  son  Russian 
and  history,  the  two  subjects  you  mention  in  your  ad- 
vertisement ?  I  venture  to  think  that  you  would  find  my 
family  and  my  place  agreeable.  There's  a  fine  garden,  a 
pretty  river,  the  air  is  pleasant,  the  house  is  large — do  you 
agree  ?  In  that  case,  you  have  only  to  let  me  know  your 
terms,  although  I  suppose,"  he  added  with  a  light  smile, 
"  that  there  cannot  be  any  difficulty  between  us  on  that 
matter." 


*  i.  e.,  unexpected. —  Tr. 


VIRGIN  SOU. 


19 


All  the  time  that  Sipiagin  was  talking,  Neshdanof  kept 
his  eyes  fixed  on  him  ;  he  looked  at  his  narrow,  low,  but 
intelligent  forehead,  his  Roman  nose,  with  its  delicate  lines, 
his  pleasant  eyes,  his  regular  lips,  whence  issued  a  stream 
of  courteous  words,  his  side  whiskers,  like  an  English- 
man's— he  looked  at  him  and  did  not  know  what  to  think. 

"  What  does  all  this  mean  ? "  he  said  to  himself.  "  Why 
does  this  man  Seem  to  be  making  advances  to  me  ?  This 
aristocrat — and  I :  how  does  it  happen  that  we  are  together  ? 
What  has  brought  him  here  ?  " 

He  was  so  buried  in  his  reflections  that  he  did  not  open 
his  mouth,  even  when  Sipiagin,  having  finished  his  little 
speech,  became  silent,  and  waited  for  an  answer.  Sip- 
iagin glanced  into  the  inner  room  where  Pakline  had  taken 
refuge,  and  was  now  staring  at  him  quite  as  earnestly  as 
Neshdanof.  Perhaps  the  presence  of  this  third  person 
kept  Neshdanof  silent. 

Sipiagin  elevated  his  eyebrows  resignedly,  as  if  he  ac- 
cepted the  strangeness  of  the  situation  into  which  he  had 
voluntarily  put  himself ;  then  he  raised  his  voice  and  re- 
peated his  question. 

Neshdanof  felt  a  slight  tremor. 

"  Certainly,"  he  said  quickly.  "  I — agree — with  much 
pleasure — although  I  must  say — I  can't  help  being  a  little 
surprised — without  any  references — and  then  what  I  said 
day  before  yesterday,  at  the  theater,  might  so  well  have 
displeased  you — " 

"  You  are  entirely  mistaken,  as  to  that,  my  dear  Mr. 
Alexis — Alexis  Dimitrivitch,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,"  said 
Sipiagin  smiling.  "  As  for  myself,  I  can  say  frankly  that  I 
am  known  to  be  a  man  of  liberal  and  advanced  views  ;  and 
your  ideas,  with  the  exception — if  you  will  kindly  permit' 
me  to  mention  it — of  a  certain  exaggeration,  peculiar  to 
youth, — your  ideas,  I  repeat,  in  no  way  contradict  my  own. 
I  may  add,  indeed,  that  their  youthful  ardor  pleases  me." 

Sipiagin  spoke  without  the  slightest  hesitation ;  his 
smooth,  rounded  utterances  flowed,  according  to  the  Rus- 
sian expression,  like  honey  on  oil. 

"  My  wife  shares  my  views,"  he  went  on  ;  "  possibly  her 
views  are  more  like  yours  than  they  are  like  mine  ;  that  is 


20  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

very  natural,  she  is  younger  than  I.  When  I  saw  in  the 
paper,  the  day  after  I  met  you,  your  name,  which,  let  me 
say  parenthetically,  I  learned  at  the  theater,  and  which  you 
had  printed  in  full,  contrary  to  the  usual  custom,  with  your 
address,  the  fact  struck  me.  I  saw  in  that — in  that  coin- 
cidence— a  sort  of — you  will  kindly  overlook  my  supersti- 
tions,— a  sort  of  special  Providence.  You  speak  of  refer- 
ences, but  I  don't  care  for  them.  Your  appearance,  your 
character,  arouse  my  sympathy  ;  that  is  enough  for  me.  I 
am  accustomed  to  trust  to  my  first  impressions  in  these 
matters.     So  I  can  hope — you  will  agree." 

"  I  agree,  of  course,"  answered  Neshdanof,  "  and  I  shall 
try  to  deserve  your  confidence.  Yet  let  me  tell  you  now 
that  I  am  ready  to  teach  your  son  his  lessons,  but  that  I 
don't  feel  competent  to  do  any  more.  I  don't  feel  capable 
of  undertaking  anything  else,  and  I  want  to  be  free.  I  am 
unwilling  to  give  up  my  liberty." 

Sipiagin  waved  his  hand,  as  if  he  were  waving  away  a 
fly. 

"  Don't  be  uneasy,  my  very  dear  sir ;  no  one  would 
think  of  asking  more  of  you,  and  besides,  I  don't  care  for 
a  private  tutor  who  shall  be  with  him  all  the  time  and  look 
out  for  his  manners.  I  only  want  some  one  to  superintend 
his  lessons,  and  that  I  have  found.  And  now,  the  condi- 
tions ?     The  pecuniary  conditions  ?     The  vile  metal  ? " 

Neshdanof  kept  silence  from  embarrassment.  "  Listen 
to  me,"  said  Sipiagin,  bending  his  whole  body  forward, 
and  amicably  touching  Neshdanof 's  knee  ;  "  between  gen- 
tlemen, a  word  is  enough.  I  offer  you  a  hundred  rubles 
a  month  ;  your  traveling  expenses  going  and  coming  of 
course  are  to  be  charged  to  me.     Is  that  right  ? " 

Neshdanof  flushed  again. 

"  That  is  a  great  deal  more  than  I  had  intended  to  ask 
for— for  I—  " 

"  Very  well ;  exactly  !  "  interrupted  Sipiagin.  "  I  con- 
sider this  settled,  and  I  look  upon  you  as  one  of  us." 

He  rose  from  his  chair  with  an  air  of  delight,  as  if  some 
one  had  just  given  him  a  present.  A  sort  of  kindly,  almost 
childlike  familiarity  suddenly  appeared  in  all  his  move- 
ments. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  21 

"We  are  going  away  in  a  few  days,"  he  resumed,  in  an 
easy  tone.  "  I  like  to  see  the  opening  of  spring  in  the 
country,  although  my  work  makes  me  a  very  prosaic  man, 
chained  to  the  city.  You  will  allow  me  to  consider  that 
your  first  month  begins  to-day.  My  wife  and  son  are  al- 
ready at  Moscow.  She  went  on  before  me.  We  shall  find 
them  in  the  country,  in  the  heart  of  nature.  You  and  I — 
we  will  go  on  together — like  a  couple  of  bachelors.  Ha,  ha  !  " 

Sipiagin's  laugh  was  brief,  somewhat  nasal,  but  otherwise 
pleasant  enough. 

'•'  And  now  ? "      •• 

He  drew  from  his  coat  pocket  a  little  black  card-case, 
bordered  with  silver,  from  which  he  took  a  card. 

"  Here  is  my  address  in  St.  Petersburg.  Will  you  not 
come  and  see  me  to-morrow,  about  noon  ?  We  will  talk 
some  more  together.  I  should  like  to  give  you  some  of  my 
notions  about  education — and  then  we  can  settle  on  the 
day  for  leaving." 

Sipiagin  took  Neshdanof's  hand. 

"By  the  way,"  he  added  confidentially,  "if  you  need 
anything  in  advance,  I  beg  of  you,  don't  stand  on  cere- 
mony.    A  whole  month,  if  you  care  for  it." 

Neshdanof  did  not  know  exactly  what  to  say  ;  he  looked, 
without  being  able  to  make  up  his  mind,  at  the  radiant,  pre- 
possessing face  which  was  so  strange  to  him,  and  yet,  com- 
ing near  his  own,  smiled  at  him  so  benevolently. 

"  You  don't  need  any,  eh  ? "  whispered  Sipiagin. 

"  If  you  will  allow  me,  I'll  tell  you  to-morrow,"  answered 
Neshdanof  at  last. 

"  Very  well !     Good-by,  then,  till  to-morrow  !  " 

Sipiagin  dropped  the  young  man's  hand,  and  prepared  to 
leave. 

"Allow  me  one  question,"  said  Neshdanof  suddenly. 
"You  said  just  now  that  you  learned  my  name  at  the 
theater.     Who  told  it  to  you  ? " 

"  Who  ?  one  of  your  acquaintances,  a  relative  of  yours, 
I  think,  a  prince — Prince  G." 

"  The  aide-de-camp  ?  " 

"Yes." 

Neshdanof  blushed — more  deeply  than  ever — and  opened 


22  VIRGIN  SOU. 

his  mouth.  But  he  dosed  it  without  saying  a  word.  Sip- 
iagin  again  squeezed  his  hand,  this  time  silently,  bowed  to 
him  and  to  Pakline,  put  on  his  hat  when  he  reached  the 
threshold,  and  went  away  wearing  in  his  face  a  complacent 
smile  ;  it  expressed  the  conviction  of  the  deep  impression 
his  visit  could  not  have  failed  to  make. 


IV. 

SIPIAGIN  had  hardly  left  the  room  when  Pakline 
sprang  from  his  chair,  and,  hastening  toward  Nesh- 
danof,  began  to  congratulate  his  friend. 

"  That's  getting  a  big  fish  in  your  net,"  he  said  with  a 
laugh,  s'hifting  from  one  foot  to  another.  "  Do  you  know 
who  Sipiagin  is  ?  He  is  a  very  well-known  man,  a  cham- 
berlain, a  pillar  of  society,  if  I  may  use  the  phrase,  a  future 
minister." 

"  I  have  never  heard  of  him,"  said  Neshdanof  somewhat 
sullenly. 

Pakline  flung  up  his  arms  as  if  in  despair.  "  That's  just 
our  misfortune,  Alexis  Dimitritch,  that  we  don't  know  any- 
body. We  want  to  do  something,  to  turn  the  world  upside 
down,  and  we  live  wholly  outside  of  the  world  ;  we  know 
only  our  two  or  three  friends,  we  are  forever  going  around 
in  the  same  little  groove — " 

"  Excuse  me,"  interrupted  Neshdanof,  "  that's  not  ex- 
actly it.  It's  only  that  we  refuse  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  our  enemies.  As  to  our  own  set,  as  to  the  people,  we 
are  always  in  communication  with  them." 

"  Tra,  la,  la  !  "  interrupted  Pakline  in  his  turn.  "  In  the 
first  place,  as  for  enemies,  let  me  recall  those  lines  of 
Goethe's  : 

"  Who  will  the  poet  understand, 
Must  go  into  the  poet's  land." 


and  I  say, 


"Who  will  the  enemy  understand, 
Must  go  into  the  enemy's  land." 


To  live  away  from  one's  enemies,  to  remain  in  ignorance 
of  their  life  and  manners — it's  an  absurdity — an  absurdity  ! 
To  track  a  wolf  in  the  forest,  you  must  know  first  all  his 
hiding-places.     Then  you  just  spoke  of  being  in  communi- 

23 


24  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

cation  with  the  people,  my  dear  friend.  In  1862  the  Poles 
took  to  the  woods,  and  now  it's  we  who  are  doing  the  same 
thing  and  taking  to  the  woods  ;  that  is  to  say,  to  the 
people,  who  are  more  hostile  and  deafer  to  us  than  any 
forest." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  is  to  be  done  ? " 

''  The  Hindoos  throw  themselves  beneath  the  wheels  of 
the  Juggernaut,"  continued  Pakline  gloomily;  "it  crushes 
them  and  they  die  hajipy.  We  have  our  Juggernaut ;  it  will 
crush  us,  that's  very  certain,  but  it  v/ill  not  make  us  the 
least  bit  haj)py." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  is  to  be  done  ?  "  repeated  Nesh- 
danof,  almost  shouting.     "  Should  we  write  novels  with  an . 
especial  object  ? " 

Pakline  opened  his  arms  and  leaned  his  head  to  one  side. 

"  You  at  any  rate  can  write  novels,  because  you  have 
literary  tastes.  Come,  don't  be  angry.  I  won't  say  it  again. 
I  know  you  don't  like  to  hear  that  alluded  to.  Besides,  I 
agree  with  you,  it's  not  a  very  delightful  occupation  manu- 
facturing such  things,  stuffing  them  with  all  the  new-fash- 
ioned phrases.  '  Oh,  I  love  you  ! '  she  hurst  forth.  '  I  don't 
care  for  that,'  he  hurled  back.  That's  why  I  tell  you  to  go 
into  all  classes  of  society,  beginning  with  the  highest.  It  is 
not  enough  to  rely  on  the  Ostrodumofs.  They  are  worthy 
people,  kindly  but  stupid.  Just  look  at  our  friend  !  Nothing 
about  him,  not  even  the  soles  of  his  boots,  reminds  you  of 
intelligent  people.  See,  why  did  he  go  away  from  here  just 
now  ?  In  order  not  to  stay  in  the  same  room,  not  to  breathe 
the  same  air  as  an  aristocrat !  " 

"  I  must  beg  of  you  not  to  talk  of  Ostrodumof  in  that 
way  before  me  !  "  cried  Neshdanof  warmly.  "  He  wears 
thick  boots  because  they  are  cheap." 

"  That's  not  what  I  meant,"  began  Pakline. 

"  He  don't  want  to  stay  in  the  same  room  with  an  aristo- 
crat," continued  Neshdanof  raising  his  voice.  "Well,  I 
approve  of  him  for  just  that.  And,  moreover,  he  is  capa- 
ble of  sacrifice,  and  if  it  were  necessary  he  Avould  face 
death,  which  is  more  than  you  or  I  would  ever  do." 

Pakline,  with  a  pitiful  face,  pointed  to  his  little  crooked 
legs. 

■  How  could  I  fight,  my  dear  friend  ? — but  let's  talk  of 


-&-• 

a 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


25 


something  else.  I  tell  you  I  am  very  glad  that  you  are 
connected  with  Mr.  Sipiagin,  and  I  foresee  the  great  advan- 
tage this  will  be  to  our  work.  You  will  be  in  high  life,  you 
will  see  the  lionesses,  those  women  with  velvet  bodies  over 
steel  springs,  as  the  Lettres  sur  V Espagne  say  ;  study  them, 
my  friend,  study  them  !  If  you  were  an  epicurean  I  should 
be  alarmed  about  you, — I  should.  But  that's  not  the 
reason  you  ta:ke  the  situation,  is  it  ? " 

"  I  took  the  situation  to  keep  body  and  soul  together," 
answered  Neshdanof ;  "  and  to  keep  out  of  your  way  for  a 
time,  too,"  he  addeS  to  himself. 

"Of, course,  of  course,  that's  why  I  repeat  my  advice; 
observe,  study  !  What  a  perfume  he's  left  behind  him, 
that  gentleman  !  "  Pakline  threw  back  his  head  to  sniff  the 
air.  "  It's  just  the  perfume  of  amber  which  the  mayor's 
wife  in  the  Revisor  used  to  dream  of." 

"  He  asked  Prince  G.  about  me,"  said  Neshdanof,  in  a 
low  voice,  having  gone  back  to  the  window  ;  "  probably  he 
knows  my  whole  story  by  this  time." 

"  Not  probably,  but  certainly.  What  difference  does  that 
make  ?  I'd  be  willing  to  bet  that  is  what  gave  him  the 
notion  of  taking  you  for  his  boy's  tutor.  Say  what  you  will 
you  are  an  aristocrat  by  birth  ;  yes,  indeed,  you  are  one  of 
them  !  But  I've  been  here  a  long  while,  it's  time  for  me 
to  go  to  the  office,  to  those  vile  speculators  !  Good-by, 
my  friend  !  " 

Pakline  started  to  leave,  but  he  stopped  and  turned  round. 

"  See  here,  Alexis,"  he  said  in  a  coaxing  tone,  "  just  now 
you  wouldn't  let  me — I  know  that  now  you  are  going  to 
have  some  money,  but  still  let  me  make  a  modest  offering 
for  the  common  cause.  I  can't  be  of  service  in  any  other 
way  ;  let  me  at  least  do  my  part  with  my  purse.  See,  I  put 
on  the  table  a  ten  ruble  bill ;  is  it  accepted  ? " 

Neshdanof  did  not  stir. 

"  Silence  means  consent.  Thank  you  \  "  cried  Pakline 
joyfully,  and  he  disappeared. 

Neshdanof  remained  alone.  He  continued  to  gaze  out 
of  his  window  into  the  narrow,  gloomy  courtyard,  where 
the  rays  of  the  sun  never  penetrated  even  in  summer  ;  and 
his  face  was  as  dark  as  the  courtyard. 


26  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Neshdanof  was,  as  we  have  learned,  the  son  of  Prince 
G, —  a  rich  man,  a  general  on  the  emperor's  staff,  and  of 
his  daughter's  governess — a  pretty  girl,  a  former  pupil  in 
a  school  for  young  ladies  of  noble  birth.  She  died  the 
day  Neshdanof  was  born.  He  was  educated  first  at  a 
boarding-school  kept  by  a  Swiss,*  an  intelligent  and  rigor- 
ous teacher,  and  then  he  entered  the  University.  He 
wanted  to  study  law,  but  the  general,  his  father,  who  de- 
tested the  nihilists,  compelled  him  to  study  "  esthetic  " 
subjects,  as  Neshdanof  called  them  with  bitter  irony,  that 
is  to  say,  he  made  him  enter  the  department  of  history  and 
philology.  His  father  used  to  see  him  at  the  most  three  or 
four  times  a  year  ;  but  he  took  an  interest  in  his  future,  and 
at  his  death,  had  left  for  his  benefit  six  thousand  rubles, 
*'  in  memory  of  Nastia  "  (his  mother).  The  interest  was  to 
be  paid  him  as  an  allowance  by  his  brother.  Prince  G. 

It  was  not  inaccurately  that  Pakline  called  him  an  aris- 
tocrat ;  everything  about  him  recalled  his  origin  :  his  small 
ears,  hands,  and  feet,  the  possibly  excessive  delicacy  of  his 
features,  his  soft  complexion,  the  beauty  of  his  hair,  the 
slight  lisp  of  his  sympathetic  voice.  He  was  terribly  ner- 
vous, terribly  irritable  and  impressionable,  even  capri- 
cious ;  the  false  position  in  which,  since  infancy,  he  had 
found  himself,  had  had  a  large  share  in  making  him  sensitive  ; 
but  his  innate  generosity  saved  him  from  becoming  suspi- 
cious and  distrustful.  This  false  position  also  explained 
the  contradictions  in  his  character.  Although  scrupulously 
fastidious,  and  ready  to  be  disgusted  by  the  merest  trifle, 
he  affected  coarseness  and  cynicism  in  his  speech  ;  natu- 
rally an  idealist,  both  passionate  and  chaste,  at  once  bold 
and  timid,  he  blamed  himself  for  this  timidity,  this  purity, 
as  if  it  were  a  shameful  defect,  and  he  held  it  his  duty  to 
ridicule  the  ideal  side  of  things.  He  had  a  kind  heart, 
and  kept  away  from  people  ;  he  was  easily  irritated,  but 
he  never  nursed  a  grievance.  He  was  angry  with  his 
father  for  obliging  him  to  study  esthetic  subjects,  and  appar- 
ently he  was  interested  in  nothing  but  politics  and  social 
questions  ;  he  preached — and  with  perfect  conviction — the 
most  advanced  theories  ;  but  in  secret  he  adored  poetry, 
art,  and  beauty  in  all  its  forms — he  even  wrote  verses. 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


27 


He  used  to  hide  very  carefully  the  little  note-book  in 
which  he  wrote  them,  and  of  his  Petersburg  friends  Pak- 
line  alone — thanks  to  his  great  acuteness — suspected  their 
existence.  Nothing  could  so  enrage  Neshdanof  as  even  a 
vailed  allusion  to  his  poetic  tastes,  which  he  looked  upon 
as  unpardonable  weaknesses.  His  Swiss  teacher  had 
taught  him  a  good  many  facts  ;  he  was  not  afraid  of 
work  ;  he  eveti  took  it  up  with  pleasure,  though  somewhat 
feverishly,  and  without  persistence.  His  companions  were 
very  fond  of  him,  being  attracted  by  the  sincerity,  kind- 
ness, and  purity  which  they  saw  in  him.  But  poor  Nesh- 
danof w^s  not  born  under  a  happy  star  ;  life  was  not  easy 
to  him.  He  felt  his  position  keenly,  and  in  spite  of  his 
friends'  devotion,  he  always  seemed  to  himself  to  be  a 
lonely  creature. 

Left  alone  in  his  room,  and  still  standing  before  the 
window,  Neshdanof  thought  sadly  of  the  journey  he  was 
about  to  take  ;  of  this  novel,  unexpected  change  in  his 
mode  of  life.  He  was  not  sorry  to  go  from  St.  Petersburg, 
because  he  would  leave  nothing  particularly  dear  there  ; 
besides,  was  he  not  coming  back  in  the  autumn  ?  And  yet 
he  seemed  full  of  irresolution  and  possessed  by  involun- 
tary melancholy. 

"  A  singular  tutor  I  shall  make,"  he  thought,  "  a  strange 
teacher  !  " 

He  was  almost  angry  with  himself  for  forming  this  en- 
gagement, although  in  truth  his  anger  was  unjust.  Nesh- 
danof was  sufficiently  well  educated,  and  in  spite  of  his 
uncertain  temper,  children  were  not  afraid  of  him,  and 
very  soon  became  fond  of  him. 

The  sadness  which  had  now  fallen  upon  him  Avas  merely 
from  the  impression  which  all  melancholy,  dreamy  persons 
have  when  they  are  obliged  to  leave  a  place.  Venture- 
some, sanguine  characters  do  not  know  the  feeling  ;  they 
are  more  inclined  to  be  glad  when  the  current  of  their  lives 
is  broken,  when  there  comes  an  opportunity  to  change  their 
surroundings. 

Neshdanof  was  plunged  into  such  a  deep  revery  that 
gradually,  almost  without  knowing  it,  he  began  to  put  it 
into  words,  and  his  impressions  fell  into  rhythm  and  rhyme. 


28  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  The  devil !  "  he  said  aloud.  "  I  really  believe  that  I'm 
going  to  write  some  verses." 

He  shook  himself  and  turned  from  the  window  ;  his  eye 
was  caught  by  the  ruble  bill  which  Pakline  had  left  on  the 
table  ;  he  put  it  into  his  pocket,  and  began  to  walk  up  and 
down  the  room. 

"  I  must  draw  some  money  in  advance,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, "  since  this  gentleman  has  made  the  offer.  A  hundred 
rubles,  and  then  from  my  brothers,  their  highnesses,  an- 
other hundred.  Fifty  for  what  I  owe,  sixty  or  seventy  for 
the  journey,  and  the  rest  can  go  to  Ostrodumof,  together 
with  Pakline's  ten  rubles.  Besides,  we  shall  get  something 
from  Markelof,  too." 

While  he  was  making  these  calculations  rhymes  began 
to  fly  through  his  head.  He  stopped  dreamily,  and  stood 
looking  vaguely  to  one  side.  Then  his  hands  groped  their 
way,  as  it  were,  to  the  table- drawer,  which  they  opened, 
and  found  at  the  bottom  the  little  note-book  covered  with 
writing.  He  dropped  into  a  chair  in  front  of  the  table 
without  changing  the  direction  of  his  eyes,  and  then  mur- 
muring inaudibly,  and  from  time  to  time  tossing  back  his 
hair,  he  began  to  jot  down  verses. 

The  anteroom  door  opened  half  way,  and  Mashurina's 
head  appeared.  Neshdanof  did  not  see  her  and  went  on 
with  his  work.  Mashurina  looked  at  him  fixedly  for  a  long 
time,  and  then  shaking  her  head  from  side  to  side  with  an 
air  of  pity,  she  stepped  back.  But  Neshdanof  arose  at 
once. 

"  Oh,  it's  you  !  "  he  said  with  some  vexation,  thrusting 
his  note-book  into  the  bottom  of  the  drawer. 

"  Ostrodumof  sent  me,"  she  said  slowly,  "  to  find  out 
when  we  can  receive  the  money.  If  you  get  any  to-day, 
we  shall  leave  this  evening." 

Neshdanof  frowned. 

"It's  impossible  to-day  ;  come  to-morrow." 

"At  what  time?" 

"  At  two  o'clock." 

"  All  right." 

Mashurina  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  suddenly 
holding  out  her  hand  to  Neshdanof,  said,  "  I'm  afraid  I've 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


29 


disturbed  you,  excuse  me.  And  then — I'm  going  away. 
Who  knows  whether  we  shall  ever  meet  again  ?  I  wanted 
to  say  good-by." 

Neshdanof  shook  Mashurina's  red,  cold  hand. 

"  You  saw  my  visitor  just  now  ? "  he  said.  "  I  have 
come  to  an  agreement  with  him.  I'm  going  with  him  to 
his  country-place,  near  S ." 

A  smile  passed  over  Mashurina's  face. 

"  Near  S !    In  that  case  we  shall  meet  perhaps.   We 

may  be  next  in  that  direction." 

Mashurina  smiled  aigain. 

"  Ah,  Alexis  Dimitritch." 

"What- is  it  ?  "  asked  Neshdanof. 

Mashurina  became  more  reserved. 

*'  Nothing.     Good-by.     Nothing  at  all." 

She  pressed  his  hand  again  and  disappeared. 

"  There's  no  one  in  all  Petersburg  who  is  so  much  at- 
tached to  me  as  that  strange  girl,"  thought  Neshdanof;  *'  but 
she  needn't  have  disturbed  me.    Well,  it's  all  for  the  best." 

The  next  morning  Neshdanof  made  his  way  to  Sipiagin's 
residence,  and  was  introduced  into  a  magnificent  library, 
filled  with  elegant  furniture,  to  accord  with  the  dignity  of 
the  liberal  statesman  and  gentleman.  He  sat  down  before 
a  large  writing-table  on  which,  besides  enormous  paper- 
knives,  which  had  never  cut  a  leaf,  lay  heaps  of  periodicals, 
which  had  never  been  of  the  slightest  service  to  any  one. 
He  listened  for  a  whole  hour  to  the  intelligent,  kindly,  unc- 
tuous remarks  of  his  host,  received  the  hundred  rubles 
which  were  advanced  to  him,  and  ten  days  later,  the  same 
Neshdanof,  lying  back  on  the  velvet  cushions  of  a  first-class 
compartment,  by  the  side  of  the  same  gentleman  and  wise 
and  liberal  statesman,  was  rolling  toward  Moscow  over  the 
rough,  uneven  rails  of  the  Nicholas  Railway. 


V. 

IN  the  parlor  of  a  large  brick  house  with  a  colonnade 
and  elaborate  pediment,  built  about  1825  by  Sipiagin's 
father,  who  was  a  well-known  agriculturist  and  "  tooth- 
puller,  "  *  .  Mme.  Sipiagin — a  very  pretty  woman,  be  it 
said  by  the  way, — was  expecting  at  every  moment  her  hus- 
band's arrival,  which  had  been  announced  by  telegraph. 

The  whole  arrangement  of  the  parlor  bore  marks  of  deli- 
cate and  modern  taste  ;  everything  was  pleasant  and  at- 
tractive ;  everything,  from  the  medley  of  dyed  stuffs  and 
cretonnes,  to  the  various  forms  of  the  porcelain,  bronze, 
and  metal  vases,  scattered  over  the  tables  and  stands  ;  all 
appeared  in  the  clear,  but  subdued  and  harmonious  light 
of  a  day  in  May,  as  it  shone  freely  through  the  tall,  wide- 
open  windows.  The  air  of  the  room  was  filled  with  the 
perfume  of  lilies-of-the-valley  (bouquets  of  this  delicious 
flower  were  set  about  here  and  there),  and  at  times  it  was 
gently  agitated  by  a  light  puff  of  wind  that  had  passed  over 
the  rich  grass  of  the  garden. 

It  was  a  charming  picture.  And  the  lady  herself,  Valen- 
tine Michaelovna  Sipiagin,  completed  the  picture,  giving  it 
thought  and  life. 

She  was  a  tall  woman  about  thirty  years  old  ;  her  hair  was 
dark  chestnut  ;  her  face,  without  great  variety  of  color,  but 
fresh,  recalled  that  of  the  Sistine  Madonna,  with  its  velvety, 
deep  eyes.  Her  lips  were  pale  and  somewhat  thick,  her 
shoulders  a  little  high,  her  hands  rather  large.  But  on  the 
Avhole,  any  one  who  had  seen  her  in  her  parlor,  going  and 
coming  easily  and  lightly — now  bending  her  delicate,  some- 
what tightly-laced  figure  over  a  flower,  to  enjoy  its  per- 

*  A  term  formerly  applied  to  gentlemen  who  were  fond  of  inflicting 
corporal  punishment  on  their  serfs. 

30 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


31 


fume — now  altering  the  position  of  some  Chinese  vase,  or 
arranging  her  lustrous  hair  before  the  glass,  half  closing 
her  handsome  eyes — would  certainly  have  said  to  himself, 
if  not  aloud,  that  he  had  never  met  a  more  beautiful 
creature. 

A  pretty,  curly-headed  little  boy  about  seven,  in  a  High- 
land dress  and  with  bare  legs,  with  his  hair  oiled  and 
curled,  came  running  into  the  room,  but  stopped  short  when 
he  saw  Madame  Sipiagin. 

"  What  is  it.  Kola  ?  "*  she  said. 

Her  voice  was  as  soft  and  as  velvety  as  her  eyes. 

"  It's — mamma — "  the  little  boy  hesitated,  "  aunt  sent 
me  here'— and  told  me  to  get  her  some  lilies-of-the-valley 
for  her  room.     She  hasn't  any." 

Valentine  Michailovna  took  hold  of  her  son's  chin  and 
lifted  up  his  head. 

"  Tell  your  aunt  to  ask  the  gardener  for  some  lilies-of- 
the-valley  ;  these  here  belong  to  me — I  don't  want  any 
one  to  touch  them.  Tell  her  I  don't  like  to  have  anything 
disturbed  that  I  have  arranged.  Can  you  tell  her  just  what 
I've  said  ?  " 

"  I  can — "  stammered  the  little  boy. 

"  Let  us  see  ;  what  are  you  going  to  say  to  her  ?  " 

"  I  shall  tell  her — I  shall  tell  her — that  you  don't  want 
her  to." 

Mme.  Sipiagin  began  to  laugh,  and  her  laugh  too  was 
smooth  and  soft. 

"  I  see  I  can't  send  messages  by  you  yet.  But  it  makes 
no  difference,  tell  her  the  best  way  you  can." 

The  little  boy  quickly  kissed  his  mother's  hand,  all 
glistening  with  rings,  and  hurried  from  the  room. 

Mme.  Sipiagin  followed  him  with  her  eyes,  sighed,  and 
walked  toward  a  gilded  cage  in  which  was  a  little  green 
parrot  climbing  up  the  wires  by  its  beak  and  claws  ;  she 
teased  it  a  little  with  the  end  of  her  finger  and  then  drop- 
ping on  a  low  sofa,  she  took  from  a  carved  table  the  last 
number  of  the  Revue  des  Deux  Moudes,  and  lolling  back 
on  the  sofa,  began  to  turn  over  the  pages. 

*  Diminutive  of  Nicholas. 


32 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


A  respectful  cough  made  her  Hft  her  head.  A  solemn 
ser\ant  in  livery,  with  a  white  cravat,  stood  on  the  threshold. 

"  What  is  it,  Agathon  ? "  slie  said  in  the  same  sweet  voice. 

"  Simeon  Petrovitch  Kallomeitsef.  Shall  I  show  him 
in  ?  " 

*'  Certainly.  Ask  him  to  come  in.  And  tell  Marianna 
Vikentievna  that  I  should  be  very  glad  if  she  would  come 
down  into  the  parlor." 

Simeon  Petrovitch  Kallomeitsef  was  a  young  man  of 
about  thirty-two.  His  way  of  entering  the  room,  easily 
and  indifferently,  almost  languidly,  then  the  sudden  de- 
light which  flashed  over  his  face,  his  bow  somewhat  to  one 
side,  and  his  quick  straightening  of  himself  as  if  he  w^as 
moved  by  a  spring,  the  slight  nasal  tone  in  his  remarks  to 
the  mistress  of  the  house,  the  respectful  way  in  which  he 
seized  Valentine  Michailovna's  hand  and  kissed  it  with  ef- 
fusion— all  this  made  it  very  plain  that  the  new-comer  was 
no  provincial,  no  rich  country  neighbor,  but  a  real  citizen 
of  St.  Petersburg  and  of  the  first  circles. 

It  may  be  added  that  he  was  dressed  in  the  present 
English  style.  The  side-pocket  of  his  check  coat  was  per- 
fectly flat,  and  was  surmounted  by  the  triangular  corner  of 
his  new  white  cambric  handkerchief ;  his  eyeglasses  hung 
at  the  end  of  a  broad  black  ribbon  ;  his  dull  colored  gants 
de  Suede  harmonized  wonderfully  with  the  pale  gray  tint  of 
his  plaid  trousers. 

Mr.  Kallomeitsef  wore  his  hair  short,  and  his  beard  was 
shaved  smooth.  His  almost  feminine  face,  with  the  little 
eyes  near  together,  the  small  nose,  and  the  soft  lips,  wore 
that  expression  of  amiable  complacency  which  suits  the 
perfectly-trained  gentleman.  And  yet  this  amiable  face 
could  readily  assume  a  very  bad  or  even  a  brutal  expres- 
sion when  any  one,  no  matter  who,  took  the  liberty  of  touch- 
ing against  one,  no  matter  which,  of  Mr.  Kallomei'tsef's 
conservative,  patriotic,  or  religious  principles — then  he  was 
pitiless.  All  his  elegance  was  gone  at  once  ;  his  caressing 
eyes  were  lit  up  with  an  unholy  fire  ;  his  little  pink  mouth 
gave  expression  to  most  violent  words,  and  with  cries  like 
a  peacock  he  would  scream  forth  his  authorities. 

Kallomeitsef  was  the  descendant  of  simple  gardeners, 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


33 


His  great-grandfather  was  named  Kolomentsof,  from  the 
place  of  his  birth  ;*  but  his  grandfather  altered  this  name 
to  Kolome'itsef  ;  his  father  signed  his  name  Kalomei'tsef  ; 
and  finally  Simeon  Petrovitch,  having  added  an  /,  really 
considered  himself  a  pure-blooded  nobleman.  He  was 
fond  of  repeating  that  his  family  was  directly  descended 
from  the  Barqns  of  Gallenmeyer,  one  of  whom  had  been 
field-marshal  in  Austria  at  the  time  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War. 

He  had  a  place  at  court  with  the  title  of  chamberlain  ; 
patriotism  had  prevented  his  entering  the  diplomatic  ser- 
vice to  which  everything  about  him  seemed  to  point, — his 
education,  his  familiarity  with  society,  his  success  with 
women,  and  his  general  air  ;  "  Mais  quitter  la  Russie  ?  Ja- 
mais!" he  used  to  say  in  French. 

He  was  well  off,  and  he  had  powerful  relatives  ;  he  was 
looked  upon  as  a  rising  man  with  talents,  "  although  some- 
what mediceval  in  his  opinions,"  according  to  the  expres- 
sion of  Prince  B.,  a  well-known  luminary  of  the  official- 
world  at  St.  Petersburg. 

He  had  come  to  pass  two  months  of  vacation  in  the  gov- 
ernment of  S ,  to  see  to  the  management  of  his  estates  ; 

that  is  to  say,  "  to  frighten  this  man,  and  put  the  thumb- 
screws on  that."  How  could  anything  go  on  without  such 
measures  ? 

"  I  expected  to  find  Boris  Andrei'tch  here,"  he  said, 
gracefully  balancing  himself  on  his  toes,  and  then  looking 
suddenly  to  one  side,  like  a  certain  very  great  personage. 

Mme.  Sipiagin  made  a  slight  grimace. 

"  Otherwise  you  wouldn't  have  come  ?  " 

Kallomeitsef  started  back,  so  unjust  and  unreasonable 
did  the  question  seem. 

"  Oh,  madam  !  "  he  cried,  "  oh,  how  could  you  think — " 

"  Very  well,  then  ;  sit  down.  Boris  Andrei'tch  Avill  be 
here  very  soon.  I  have  sent  a  carriage  to  the  station.  Be 
patient,  you  are  going  to  see  him.     What  time  is  it  ? " 

"  Half  past  two,"  said  Kallomeitsef,  drawing  from  his 
waistcoat  pocket  a  large  enameled  gold  watch,  which  he 
showed  to  Mme.  Sipiagin.     "  Did  you  ever  see  my  watch  ? 

*  Kolomna,  in  the  government  of  Moscow. 


34 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


It's  a  present  from  Michael — you  know — the  Prince  of  Ser- 
via — Obrenovitch.  There  is  his  coat-of-arms.  We  are 
great  friends,  he  and  I.  What  a  charming  fellow  he  is  ! 
and  with  all  that  he  has  a  hand  of  iron,  as  a  ruler  should 
have.     Oh  !  he  permits  no  nonsense.     No,  no  !  " 

Kallome'itsef  stretched  himself  in  his  easy-chair,  crossed 
his  legs,  and  began  slowly  to  remove  the  glove  from  his  left 
hand. 

"  Oh,  if  we  only  had  a  man  of  that  sort  in  our  govern- 
ment of  S ." 

"  What  ?     Who  is  it  that  displeases  you  ?  " 

Kallome'itsef  turned  up  his  nose. 

"  This  zemstvo^  you  see,  this  zemstvo  ;  what  is  the  good  of 
it  ?  It  only  weakens  the  administration  and  gives  rise  to 
unprofitable  ideas  "  (Kallomei'tsef  began  to  wave  his  un- 
gloved hand  in  the  air  to  restore  the  impeded  circulation), 
"  and  vain  hopes  "  (here  he  blew  upon  his  hand).  "  I  have 
said  all  that  at  Petersburg,  mais,  bah!  the  wind  doesn't 
blow  from  that  quarter.  Your  husband,  too,  only  think  of 
it !     Besides,  he's  known  as  a  liberal." 

Mme.  Sipiagin  sat  up  straight  on  the  sofa. 

"  What !  and  you  too, '  M'sieu  '  Kallome'itsef,  you  belong 
to  the  opposition  ?  " 

"  I  ?  To  the  opposition  ?  Never.  Nothing  could 
tempt  me.  Mais,  fai  man  franc  par Icr.  I  criticise  some- 
times, and  I  submit  always." 

"  I  do  just  the  contrary:  I  don't  criticise,  and  I  don't 
submit." 

''''Ah,  mais  c'est  ztn  mot !  Will  you  give  me  leave  to  tell 
it  to  my  friend  Ladislas  ?  He  is  writing  a  society  novel ; 
he  has  read  several  chapters.  It  will  be  delightful.  Nous 
aurons  eiifiii  le  grand  nionde  russe peint par  lui-nie/ne." 

"  What  is  it  going  to  come  out  in  ?  " 

"  In  the  Russian  Messenger,  of  course.  It  is  our  Revue 
dcs  Deux  Mondes.     You  read  it,  I  see." 

"  Yes,  but  do  you  know  it's  getting  very  heavy  ? '" 

"  Possibly — possibly.  And  the  Russian  Messenger  too, 
I  take  it,  is  going  down  hill  a  bit." 

Kallome'itsef  laughed  loudly  ;  he  thought  it  very  "  swell " 
to  use  such  expressions. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  35 

"  But  it's  a  periodical  that  respects  itself,"  he  went  on, 
"  and  that's  the  main  thing.  Russian  literature,  I  might 
as  well  confess,  hardly  interests  me  at  all ;  in  the  novels  of 
to-day  there  are  only  vulgar  people.  Some  one  has  just 
chosen  for  a  heroine  a  cook,  a  mere  cook,  'pon  my  honor  ! 
But  as  for  Ladislas's  novel,  I  shall  certainly  read  it.  It  will 
be  full  of  brighf  things.  And  then  its  lesson  is  such  a  good 
one  !  The  nihilists  will  be  dragged  through  the  mire— I'm 
sure  of  that  from  what  I  know  of  Ladislas's  way  of  think- 
ing— qui  est  tres  cor  raft." 

"  His  past  life  has  hardly  been  so  !  "  remarked  Mme. 
Sipiagin.' 

""Ah^jetons  un  voile  sur  les  erreurs  de  sajeunesse!"  cried 
Kallomeitsef,  completing  the  operation  of  removing  the 
glove  from  his  right  hand. 

Mme.  Sipiagin  for  the  second  time  looked  at  him  co- 
quettishly  through  her  half-closed  eyelids.  She  was  a  little 
inclined  to  flirt  with  those  incomparable  eyes  of  hers. 

"Simeon  Petrovitch,"  she  said,  "tell  me,  please,  why 
when  you  speak  Russian,  you  use  so  many  French  words  ? 
It  seems  to  me  (you  won't  be  vexed  ?)  a  little  old-fash- 
ioned." 

"  Why  ?  Why  ?  It  is  not  everybody  who  has  such  per- 
fect command  of  his  native  language  as — you  have,  for 
instance.  As  for  me,  I  consider  Russian  the  language  of 
ukases  and  official  business  ;  I  value  its  purity  very  highly  ! 
I  bow  before  Karamzin  !  But  is  there  such  a  thing  as 
every-day  Russian,  so  to  speak  ?  For  example,  what  I 
just  said, '  cest  un  mot!  '  It's  impossible  to  say  that  in  Rus- 
sian !  " 

"  I  should  have  said.  It's  a  happy  expression." 

Kallomeitsef  began  to  laugh. 

"A  happy  expression  !  oh  !  madam  !  But  don't  you  see 
that  is  so  pedantic  all  the  sparkle  is  lost  ? " 

"  Well,  I  am  still  unconvinced.  But  what  has  become 
of  Marianne  ?  " 

She  rang  the  bell  which  was  answered  by  a  little  page. 

"  I  ordered  that  Marianne  Vikentievna  should  be  asked 
to  come  down  into  the  parlor.     Was  the  order  forgotten  ?  " 

Before  the  little  page  had  time  to  answer,  there  appeared 


36  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

behind  him  on  the  threshold  a  young  girl  with  her  hair  cut 
short,  and  dressed  in  a  large,  dark-colored  blouse.  It  was 
Marianne  Vikentievna  Sinetskai'a,  a  niece  of  Sipiagin  on 
his  mother's  side. 


VI. 

"TjLEASte  excuse  me,  Valentine  Michailovna,"  said 
J7      tti6  young  girl,  going  toward  Mme.  Sipiagin  ;  "  I 
was  busy,  and  so  g(Jt  late." 

She  then  greeted  Kallome'itsef,  and  was  about  to  take  a 
seat  a  little  to  one  side  on  a  little  hassock,  near  the  parrot, 
who,  as  soon  as  it  saw  her,  began  to  open  its  wings  and 
stretch  its  neck. 

"  Why  do  you  sit  so  far  off,  Marianne  ? "  asked  Mme. 
Sipiagin,  whose  eyes  had  followed  her  all  the  time.  "  Do 
you  want  to  be  near  your  little  pet  ?  Only  think  of  it," 
she  said  to  Kallomei'tsef,  "  that  parrot  is  positively  in  love 
with  our  Marianne." 
.  "  That  doesn't  surprise  me." 

"  And  it  can't  endure  me." 

"  That  is  surprising.     Probably  you  tease  it  ?  " 

"  No  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  give  it  sugar  ;  only  it  won't 
take  it  from  my  hand.  No,  it's  a  matter  of  sympathy — 
and  of  antipathy." 

Marianne  looked  rather  sullenly  at  Mme.  Sipiagin,  who 
also  looked  at  her. 

These  two  women  were  not  fond  of  each  other. 

In  comparison  with  her  aunt  Marianne  might  well  be  con- 
sidered plain.  Her  face  was  round,  her  nose  large  and 
aquiline,  her  gray  eyes  were  also  large  and  very  clear,  the 
eyebrows  were  delicate,  and  the  lips  thin.  She  wore  her 
thick  chestnut  hair  cut  short,  and  her  expression  was  rather 
unamiable.  But  she  seemed  made  up  of  strength,  passion, 
and  impetuosity.  Her  hands  and  feet  were  extremely 
small  ;  her  robust  and  elegant  figure  recalled  the  Floren- 
tine statuettes  of  the  sixteenth  century  ;  her  movements 
were  light  and  graceful. 

Miss  Sinetskai'as'  position  in  the  household  of  the  Sipia- 
gins  was  a  somewhat  difficult  one.     Her  father,  an  active, 

Z1 


38  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

intelligent  man,  of  half  Polish  descent,  had  reached  the 
grade  of  general,  when  suddenly  his  connection  with  an 
enormous  robbery  of  the  government  was  discovered.  He 
was  tried  and  found  guilty  ;  he  was  dismissed  the  service, 
deprived  of  his  patent  of  nobility,  and  sent  to  Siberia. 
After  a  time  he  was  pardoned,  and  he  returned  to  Russia  ; 
but  he  had  not  time  to  climb  the  ladder  again,  and  he  died 
in  extreme  poverty.  His  wife,  the  sister  of  Sipiagin,  and 
the  mother  of  Marianne,  who  was  an  only  child,  could  not 
survive  the  loss  of  all  that  made  life  happy  ;  she  died  soon 
after  her  husband. 

Sipiagin  received  his  niece  into  his  house,  but  the  young 
girl  felt  a  great  disgust  for  this  dependent  life  ;  she  longed 
for  liberty  with  all  the  energy  of  an  indomitable  spirit. 
Between  lier  and  her  aunt  there  was  a  constant  although 
unavowed  struggle.  Mme.  Sipiagin  considered  her  an 
atheist  and  a  nihilist,  and  Marianne  detected  an  inevitable 
persecutor  in  Mme.  Sipiagin.  She  held  herself  aloof  from 
her  uncle  and  from  every  one  ;  she  avoided  men,  but  not 
from  fear  ;  her  temperament  was  not  a  timid  one. 

"  Antipathy,"  repeated  Kallomei'tsef,  "  yes,  it's  a  singular 
thing.  Every  one  knows  that  I  am  a  very  religious  man, 
orthodox  in  the  full  meaning  of  the  word  ;  but  I  can't 
see  a  priest's  pigtail  without  being  excited  ;  without  boiling 
over,  without  boiling  over." 

In  order  to  express  how  he  woiTld  boil  over,  Kallomei'tsef 
raised  his  clenched  fist  twice. 

"  Hair  in  general  seems  to  give  you  trouble,  Simeon 
Petrovitch,"  observed  Marianne  ;  "  I  am  sure  you  can't 
help  being  enraged  when  you  see  those  who  wear  it  short, 
as  I  do." 

Mme.  Sipiagin  slowly  raised  her  eyebrows,  and  shook  her 
head,  as  if  to  express  her  astonishment  at  the  freedom  with 
which  young  girls  nowadays  join  in  a  conversation  ;  but 
Kallomei'tsef  smiled  condescendingly. 

"  Certainly,"  he  said,  "  I  can't  help  regretting  such  fine 
curls  as  yours,  Miss  Marianne,  when  they  fall  beneath  the 
pitiless  blade  of  the  shears  ;  but  that  doesn't  arouse  my  an- 
tipathy, and  at  any  rate  your  example  might — might  apos- 
tatize me." 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  39 

Kallome'itsef  was  unable  to  recall  the  Russian  word,  and 
since  he  did  not  wish  to  speak  Frencli  after  what  Mme. 
Sipiagin  had  said,  he,  of  course,  fell  into  the  most  awkward 
expression  available. 

"Thank  heaven,  Marianne  doesn't  wear  spectacles  yet," 
said  Mme.  Sipiagin,  "and  she  has  not  as  yet  given  up 
wearing  collar,s  and  cuffs  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  to  my 
great  regret,  she  is  studying  the  natural  sciences,  and  is 
getting  interested  in  the  woman  question.  Are  you  not, 
Marianne  ? "  •■ 

All  this  was  intended  to  annoy  Marianne,  but  she  was 
not  annoj^ed. 

"  Yes,  aunt,"  she  replied  ;  "  I  read  everything  that's 
written  on  the  subject.  I  try  to  understand  what  the 
question  is." 

"  How  strange  these  young  people  are  !  "  said  Mme. 
Sipiagin  to  Kallome'itsef  ;  "  you  and  I,  we  don't  care  for 
such  things,  eh  ? " 

Kallome'itsef  smiled  approvingly.  He  felt  obliged  to  en- 
courage the  lady  in  her  amiable  pleasantry. 

"  Miss  Marianne,"  he  began,  "  is  still  imbued  with  that 
idealism,  that  youthful,  romantic  spirit,  which — that — with 

time — " 

"Besides,  I  am  doing  myself  injustice,"  interrupted 
Mme.  Sipiagin  ;  "  these  questions  interest  me,  too.  Indeed, 
I'm  not  yet  quite  so  old  as  to  be  wholly  indifferent  to  them." 

"  And  I  too  am  exceedingly  interested  in  all  such  things," 
cried  Kallome'itsef  hastily,  "  only  I  would  prohibit  them  as 
subjects  of  conversation." 

"  You  would  prohibit  them  as  subjects  of  conversation," 
repeated  Marianne. 

"  Yes,  I  would  say  to  the  public,  I  don't  prevent  your 
being  interested  in  these  things  ;  but,  as  for  talking  about 
them — hush  !  "  (he  placed  his  finger  on  his  mouth).  _"  At 
any  rate,  I  should  have  forbidden  anything  being  printed 
about  them.     Absolutely — ab-so-lute-ly  !  " 

Mme.  Sipiagin  began  to  laugh. 

"  What  !  In  your  opinion  would  it  not  be  necessary  to 
name  a  commission  to  settle  this  (piestion  ? " 

"  A  commission  ?    Why  not  ?   .Do  you  think  we  can't 


40  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

settle  this  question  as  well  as  those  half ■  starved  quill- 
drivers  who  can't  see  further  than  the  end  of  their  nose, 
and  imagine  themselves  geniuses  of  the  first  order  ?  We 
should  have  made  Boris  Andrei'tch  chairman." 

Mme.  Sipiagin  laughed  even  more. 

"  Take  care,  take  care  !  Sometimes  Boris  Andrei'tch 
is  such  a  Jacobin — " 

"  Jaco,  Jaco,  Jaco,"  said  the  parrot. 

Mme.  Sipiagin  waved  her  handkerchief .  in  order  to 
frighten  it. 

"  Don't  interrupt  the  talk  of  sensible  people.  Marianne, 
play  with  it." 

Marianne  turned  toward  the  cage  and  began  to  scratch 
the  parrot's  neck,  which  it  at  once  held  toward  her. 

"  Yes,"  resumed  Mme.  Sipiagin,  "  sometimes  Boris  An- 
drei'tch surprises  even  me.  He  has  in  him  the  making  of 
a — well,  of  a  tribune." 

''''  C est parceqii  il  est  orateur^'  said  Kallome'itsef,  in  French 
this  time.  "  Your  husband  has  the  gift  of  speech  more 
than  any  one,  and  he  is  accustomed  to  shine — ses  propres 
paroles  le  grise/it — and  then  his  desire  of  popularity.  By 
the  way,  isn't  he  a  little  vexed  just  now  ?     //  boude,  eh  ?  " 

Mme.  Sipiagin  glanced  toward  Marianne. 

"  I  haven't  noticed  it,"  she  said  after  a  short  pause. 

"  Yes,"  Kallome'itsef  went  on  in  a  meditative  voice,  "  they 
did  him  some  injustice  at  Easter." 

Mme.  Sipiagin  for  the  second  time  glanced  toward  Ma- 
rianne. 

Kallome'itsef  smiled,  and  shut  one  eye  to  show  that  he 
understood. 

"  Miss  Marianne,"  he  cried  suddenly,  rather  more  loudly 
than  was  necessary,  "  do  you  intend  to  give  lessons  at  the 
school  this  year  .■'  " 

Marianne  turned  her  back  to  the  cage. 

"  Are  you  interested  in  that,  too,  Simeon  Petrovitch  ? " 

"  Certainly  ;  very  much." 

"  You  wouldn't  have  forbidden  that  ?  " 

"  I  should  have  forbidden  the  nihilists  even  thinking  of 
schools,  but  I  should  have  been  the  first  to  establish  schools 
under  the  care  and  direction  of  the  clergy." 


VIRGIN  SOIL 


41 


"  Really  ?  I  don't  know  yet  what  I  shall  do  this  year. 
Last  year  everything  was  such  a  failure  !  And  what  sort 
of  a  class  can  one  collect  in  summer  ?" 

Marianne  always  blushed  when  she  was  talking,  as  if  her 
words  cost  her  an  effort,  as  if  she  compelled  herself  to  go 
on.     She  had  a  good  deal  of  amour-propre. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  not  sufficiently  prepared  ? "  asked 
Mme.  Sipiagin»with  a  slight  ironical  inflection. 

"  Perhaps." 

"  What  ? "  cried  Kallomeitsef.  "  What  do  I  hear  ?  Heav- 
ens !  Preparation  isTieeded  for  teaching  little  peasant  girls 
their  a,  b,  c's  !  " 

But  af  that  moment  Kola  ran  into  the  room,  crying 
''  Mamma,  mamma  !  "  He  was  followed  by  a  lady  with  a 
bonnet  on  her  head,  and  on  her  shoulders  a  yellow  shawl ; 
she  also  announced  that  Borinka  was  coming. 

This  lady  was  an  aunt  of  Sipiagin's,  named  Anna  Zak- 
harovna. 

All  the  persons  in  the  parlor  arose  in  haste  and  went  in- 
to the  antechamber,  thence  they  went  down  stairs  and  out 
to  the  front  steps.  A  drive-way  lined  with  trimmed  fir-trees 
led  from  the  high  road  to  these  steps,  and  along  this  was 
driving  a  four-horse  carriage.  Valentine  Micha'ilovna, 
who  was  in  front,  waved  her  handkerchief.  Kola  shouted 
with  a  piercing  voice.  The  coachman  stopped  the  steam- 
ing horses  just  before  the  steps,  the  footman  jumped  down 
pell-mell,  opened  the  carriage  door  so  violently  that  he 
nearl)-  tore  off  latch  and  hinges,  and  then,  with  a  kindly 
smile  on  his  lips,  in  his  eyes,  over  his  whole  face,  throwing 
off  with  a  single  easy  and  proud  gesture  the  cloak  he  wore 
over  his  shoulders,  Boris  Andre'itch  set  foot  on  the  grovmd. 

Valentine  Michailovna  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck 
with  a  swift,  graceful  gesture,  and  each  kissed  the  other's 
cheeks  three  times.  Kola  was  skipping  about,  tugging  at 
his  father's  coat-tails  ;  but  he,  having  first  taken  off  a  horri- 
ble Scotch  traveling  cap,  which  was  as  inconvenient  as  it 
was  ugly,  kissed  Anna  Zakharovna,  then  bade  good-day  to 
Marianne  and  to  Kallome'itsef,  who  was  also  on  the  steps  ; 
he  shook  the  hand  vigorously,  in  the  English  fashion,  of 
this  last-named  gentleman,  swinging  his  arm  as  if  he  were 


42  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

ringing  a  bell — and  only  then  did  he  turn  to  his  son,  whom 
he  took  under  the  arms  and  lifted  to  his  face. 

While  all  this  was  going  on,  Neshdanof  had  slipped  out 
of  the  carriage  like  a  criminal,  and  was  standing  near  the 
hind  wheel  without  taking  off  his  cap  and  looking  rather 
sullen.  Valentine  Michailovna,  when  she  was  kissing  her 
husband,  had  cast  a  scrutinizing  glance  over  her  shoulder 
at  this  new  face  ;  Sipiagin  had  sent  her  word  that  he  would 
bring  a  tutor  with  him. 

Then  they  all,  still  exchanging  polite  speeches  and 
shaking  his  hand,  walked  toward  the  staircase  with  the 
newly-arrived  master  of  the  house.  The  stairs  were  lined 
with  the  principal  servants,  male  and  female.  They  did 
not  come  to  kiss  their  master's  hand,  that  "Asiatic" 
custom  having  long  since  been  abolished,  they  merely 
-bowed  respectfully.  Sipiagin  returned  their  bows,  not  so 
much  with  his  head  as  with  his  eyebrows  and  nose. 

Neshdanof  also  went  up  the  broad  steps  ;  as  he  was  en- 
tering the  anteroom,  Sipiagin,  who  was  looking  round  for 
him,  introduced  him  to  his  wife,  to  Marianne,  and  to  his 
aunt ;   then  he  said  to  Kola  : 

"  Here  is  your  teacher,  I  hope  you  will  mind  him.  Go 
and  shake  hands  with  him." 

Kola  held  out  his  hand  timidly  to  Neshdanof,  looked  at 
him  fixedly,  but  finding  nothing  extraordinary  or  at- 
tractive about  him,  he  went  back  to  his  "  papa."  Nesh- 
danof felt  very  much  embarrassed.  He  was  wearing  an 
old  and  tolerably  shabby  overcoat,  as  he  had  done  that 
evening  at  the  theater  ;  the  dust  of  the  journey  covered 
his  face  and  hands.  Mme.  Sipiagin  said  a  pleasant  word 
to  him,  but  he  did  not  hear  it  very  distinctly,  and  noticed 
only  that  she  gave  her  husband  bright,  caressing  glances 
and  hung  upon  his  arm.  Kola's  oiled  and  curled  hair  dis- 
pleased him  ;  and  when  he  saw  Kallomei'tsef  he  thought, 
"  What  a  smooth  mug  he  has  !  "  and  he  paid  no  attention 
to  the  others. 

Sipiagin  looked  on  each  side  twice,  as  if  to  recognize  his 
household  gods  ;  this  movement  brought  out  admirably 
his  long,  hanging  side-whiskers,  and  his  muscular  neck. 
Then  with   his  full,  sonorous  voice,  Which  was  not  at  al] 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  43 

affected  by  the  fatigue  of  the  journey,  he  said  to  one  of 
the  servants  : 

"  Ivan,  shov/  this  gentleman  to  the  green  room  and  carry 
his  vahse  there." 

Then  he  explained  to  Neshdanof  that  he  could  now  rest 
himself,  unpack  his  trunk,  and  perform  his  toilet,  and  that 
dinner  would  be  ready  at  five  exactly. 

Neshdanof  bowed  and  followed  Ivan  to  the  green  room 
which  was  on  the  second  floor.  All  the  others  went  into 
the  parlor,  where  they  repeated  their  welcomes  :  an  old, 
half-blind  nurse  cam^to  greet  the  master.  Out  of  respect 
for  her  age,  Sipiagin  held  out  his  hand  for  her  to  kiss,  and 
begging  Kallomeitsef  to  excuse  him,  he  went  to  his  own 
room,  followed  by  his  wife. 


VII. 

THE  neat  and  spacious  room  to  which  the  servant  led 
Neshdanof,  looked  out  on  the  garden.  The  win- 
dows were  wide  open,  and  a  light  wind  was  gently  pufifing 
out  the  white  curtains,  which  swelled  like  sails,  and  rose 
and  fell  with  the  air.  Bright  reflections  shone  on  the  floor, 
the  room  was  full  of  a  smell  of  spring,  fresh  and  a  trifle 
damp.  Neshdanof  first  dismissed  the  servant,  unpacked 
his  valise,  and  dressed.  The  journey  had  really  worn  him 
out, — the  continual  presence  for  two  days  of  a  stranger 
with  whom  he  had  talked  of  everything  and  of  nothing ; 
this  useless  desultory  conversation  had  worn  upon  his 
nerves  ;  a  bitter  feeling,  disgust  or  wrath,  was  lurking  in 
his  heart ;  he  was  angry  with  himself  for  his  lack  of 
courage,  his  weakness — and  the  bitterness  would  not  pass 
off. 

He  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out  into  the  garden. 
It  was  an  old  garden  that  had  been  cultivated  a  century  at 
least ;  the  soil  was  rich,  its  equal  was  not  to  be  found  in 
the  country  that  side  of  Ivloscow.  It  lay  on  the  slope  of  a 
long  hill,  and  was  divided  into  four  distinct  parts.  In 
front  of  the  house,  stretched  the  flower-garden  for  a  dis- 
tance of  about  two  hundred  paces,  with  its  rectangular  gravel 
walks,  its  round  flower-beds,  and  clumps  of  acacia  and 
lilac  ;  to  the  left,  alongside  of  the  stables,  as  far  as  the 
barn,  was  the  fruit-orchard  with  its  compact  rows  of  apple, 
pear,  and  plum  trees,  and  of  gooseberry  and  raspberry 
bushes  ;  further  on,  in  front  of  the  house,  the  rows  of  lofty 
linden  trees  crossed  one  another,  forming  a  large  square. 
To  the  right,  the  view  was  cut  off  by  a  double  row  of  white 
poplars  which  shaded  the  road  ;  the  pointed  roof  of  the 
orangery  arose  behind  a  cluster  of  beeches. 

The  whole  garden  was  clothed  in  the  tender  green  of 

44 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  45 

opening  spring.  There  was  not  yet  to  be  heard  the  mighty 
and  vigorous  buzz  of  insects  such  as  fills  the  air  during  the 
heats  of  summer  :  a  few  finches  were  singing  here  and 
there  ;  two  turtle-doves  were  cooing  on  the  branches  of  the 
same  tree  ;  a  solitary  cuckoo  was  sounding  his  ciy,  every 
time  from  a  different  place  ;  and  from  afar,  from  behind 
the  mill-pond  came  a  cawing  of  crows,  loud  and  continu- 
ous, like  the  creaking  of  a  multitude  of  wheels  on  wooden 
axle-trees.  And  above  all  this  young,  retired,  and  sohtary 
life,  great  bright  clouds  were  floating,  puffing  themselves 
out  like  big,  idle  birSs. 

Neshdanof  stood  looking,  listening,  and  breathing  in  the 
air  which  refreshed  his  half-opened  lips.  He  felt  more  at 
ease  ;  the  outside  calm  had  its  influence  upon  him. 

Meanwhile,  they  were  talking  about  him  in  the  room 
below.  Sipiagin  was  telling  his  wife  how  he  had  made  his 
acquaintance  ;  what  Prince  G.  had  said  about  him,  and 
the  talk  they  had  had  during  the  journey. 

"  He's  an  intelligent  young  fellow,"  he  repeated,  "  and 
well  educated.  He's  rather  a  fanatic  in  his  views  to  be  sure  ; 
but  you  know  that  to  me  that  makes  no  difference  ;  there  is 
always  one  good  thing  about  such  people,  they  have  self- 
respect.  And  then.  Kola's  too  young  for  such  notions  to 
take  any  hold  on  him." 

Mme.  Sipiagin  listened  to  her  husband  with  a  smile  at 
the  same  time  caressing  and  mocking,  as  if  he  had  con- 
fessed to  some  odd  but  amusing  escapade  ;  she  even  felt 
a  sort  of  pleasure  in  seeing  that  her  "  lord  and  master,"  a 
man  of  his  position  and  gravity,  was  still  as  capable  of  fol- 
lowing a  whim  as  if  he  were  but  twenty  years  old. 

Standing  before  a  looking-glass,  and  adorned  with  a 
pair  of  blue  silk  braces  over  his  white  shirt,  Sipiagin  was 
about  to  brush  his  hair  in  the  English  fashion  with  two 
brushes  ;  and  Valentine  Michai'lovna,  who,  with  her  shoes 
on,  was  half  lying  down  on  a  little  sofa,  was  giving  him 
different  bits  of  news  about  the  management  of  the  estate 
and  the  paper  factory,  which,  unfortunately,  did  not  suc- 
ceed as  well  as  it  should  have  done  ;  about  the  cook,  who 
would  have  to  be  dismissed  ;  about  the  church,  where  the 
plaster  had  fallen,  about  Marianne,  and  about  Kallomeitsef. 


46  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Frank  confidence,  a  sincere  friendship,  existed  between 
the  two  ;  they  lived  really  in  "  love  and  unity,"  as  the 
phrase  is  ;  and  when  Si])iagin,  having  finished  his  toilet, 
asked  Valentine  Michailovna,  like  a  true  knight,  for  her 
little  hand  to  kiss,  and  when  his  wife  held  out  her  hands  to 
him  and  watched  him  with  proud  tenderness  kissing  first 
one  and  then  the  other,  the  feeling  that  their  countenances 
expressed  was  an  honest  and  kindly  one,  although  with  her  it 
shone  in  eyes  worthy  of  Raphael,  and  in  him  in  the  simple 
*'  lucarnes  "  of  an  official. 

At  exactly  five,  Neshdanof  came  down  to  dinner,  which 
was  announced,  not  by  a  bell,  but  by  the  prolonged  roar 
of  a  Chinese  gong. 

All  the  people  were  assembled  again  in  the  dining-room. 
Sipiagin  once  more,  over  his  white  cravat,  bade  Neshdanof 
welcome,  and  gave  him  a  seat  at  table  between  Kola  and 
Anna  Zakharovna. 

Anna  Zakharovna  was  an  old  maid,  the  sister  of  Sipiagin's 
father  ;  she  carried  about  with  her  a  smell  of  camphor,  like 
a  piece  of  clothing  that  has  been  lying  for  a  long  time  in  a 
camphor  trunk  ;  she  seemed  gloomy  and  restless.  She 
filled  in  the  household  the  place  of  nurse  or  governess  to 
Kola,  and  when  Neshdanof  was  placed  between  her  and 
her  pupil,  her  wrinkled  face  expressed  discontent.  Kola 
gave  sidelong  glances  at  his  new  neighbor  ;  the  bright  lad 
soon  guessed  that  his  tutor  was  embarrassed :  indeed 
Neshdanof  did  not  lift  his  eyes  from  his  plate,  and  ate 
hardly  a  morsel.  Kola  was  not  at  all  displeased  at  this  ;  he 
had  always  been  afraid  that  his  tutor  would  be  a  severe, 
bad-tempered  man. 

Valentine,  too,  was  observing  Neshdanof,  "  He  looks  like 
a  student,"  she  thought,  "  and  he  doesn't  know  the  ways  of 
the  world  ;  but  he  seems  interesting,  and  his  hair  is  of  a 
rare  color,  like  the  apostles  whom  old  Italian  masters  used 
to  paint  red-haired,  and  his  hands  are  well  kept." 

Moreover,  all  the  guests  were  looking  at  Neshdanof ; 
but  they  were  kind  to  him  and  left  him  alone — at  the  be- 
ginning ;  and  he,  who  felt  that  very  distinctly,  was  at  the 
same  time  pleased  and  angered,  though  he  did  not  know  why. 

It  was  Kallomei'tsef  and  Sipiagin  who  kept  the  conversa- 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


47 


tion  going.  They  talked  about  the  zemstvo,  the  governor, 
the  turnpike  roads,  tickets,  their  friends  at  Petersburg,  and 
Moscow,  the  Lyceum  Katkof,  which  had  just  been  opened, 
of  the  difficuUy  of  finding  workmen,  of  ways  of  punishing 
them,  of  the  damage  caused  by  wild  beasts,  of  Bismarck, 
of  the  war  of  1866,  and  of  Napoleon  III.,  whom  Kallomei't- 
sef  called  a  jolly  fellow.  The  young  chamberlain  professed 
the  most  retrograde  opinions  ;  he  even  went  so  far  as  to 
repeat  a  toast  which  one  of  his  friends  had  proposed  at  a 
certain  quiet  supper.  "  I  drink  to  the  only  two  principles 
which  I  recognize,'*^this  proprietor,  flushed  with  wine,  had 
cried.  , "  To  the  knout  and  to  Rcederer  !  " 

Mme.  Sipiagin  frowned  and  remarked  that  this  quotation 
was  ''''  de  ires  tnaiivais  gout."  As  for  Sipiagin,  he  expressed 
the  most  liberal  views  ;  he  refuted  Kallomei'tsef  with  a  sort 
of  easy  politeness  in  which  there  was  a  touch  of  raillery. 

"  Your  fears  on  the  subject  of  emancipation,  my  dear 
Simeon  Petrovitch,"  he  said,  among  other  things,  "remind 
me  of  a  report  that  the  excellent  and  most  respectable 
Tveritinof  handed  in  to  a  lofty  personage  in  the  year  i860, 
and  which  he  read  aloud  in  the  parlors  of  St.  Petersburg. 
The  finest  phrase  in  this  report  was  that  the  emancipated 
peasants  would  not  fail  to  wander  over  the  face  of  the 
whole  country,  torch  in  hand.  You  ought  to  have  seen 
Tveritinof  puff  out  his  little  cheeks,  open  his  eyes  wide, 
and  cry  out  from  his  baby  mouth,  '  Torch,  torch,  torch  in 
hand  ! '  Well,  the  emancipation  has  taken  place — where 
are  the  peasants  with  the  torches  ?" 

"Tveritinof,"  answered  Kallomei'tsef  gloomily,  "was  mis- 
taken on  only  one  thing ;  it's  not  the  peasants,  but  other 
people  who  will  carry  the  torches." 

At  this  moment,  Neshdanof,  who  up  to  that  time  had 
not  once  looked  at  Marianne — who  was  sitting  on  the  same 
side  of  the  table  with  himself — exchanged  a  glance  with 
her,  and  he  immediately  felt  that  both  this  sullen  girl  and 
he  had  the  same  convictions,  and  were  striving  for  the  same 
end.  She  had  in  no  way  struck  him  when  Sipiagin  intro- 
duced him  to  her  ;  why  was  it  with  her  that  he  happened  to 
exchange  a  glance  ?  At  the  same  time  a  pang  seized  him  : 
was  it  not  a  shameful  and  disgraceful  thing  for  him  to  sit 


48  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

there  and  listen  to  such  remarks  and  not  protest  against 
them,  giving  them,  by  his  silence,  the  right  to  believe  that 
he  shared  their  opinions  ? 

Again  his  eyes  met  those  of  Marianne,  and  he  fancied 
that  he  read  there  an  answer  to  his  question,  "  Wait,  the 
moment  has  not  come — it's  not  worth  while — later  ;  there 
will  always  be  time  enough." 

It  was  pleasant  for  him  to  think  that  she  understood 
him  ;  then  he  began  to  listen  to  the  conversation  once 
more.  Mme.  Sipiagin  had  succeeded  her  husband  ;  she 
went  almost  further  than  he  did  in  freedom  of  opinion,  in 
radicalism.  She  could  not  understand,  she  positively  could 
not  understand,  how  a  young,  well-educated  man  could 
cling  to  such  old-fashioned  routine. 

"  Besides,"  she  added,  "  I'm  sure  you  say  such  things  only 
out  of  mischief.  As  for  you,  Alexis  Dimitritch,"  she  said, 
with  a  pleasant  smile  to  Neshdanof,  who  was  surprised  to 
find  that  she  knew  his  Christian  name,  "  I  know  you  don't 
share  Simeon  Petrovitch's  uneasiness  ;  my  husband  has 
told  me  about  his  talk  with  you  on  the  journey." 

Neshdanof  blushed,  bent  his  head  over  his  plate,  and 
stammered  a  few  confused  words  ;  not  from  timidity,  but 
because  he  was  not  accustomed  to  talk  with  such  great 
people.  Mme.  Sipiagin  continued  to  smile  on  him,  while 
her  husband  expressed  his  approval  by  a  patronizing  nod. 
Kallomeitsef  slowly  raised  his  round  eyeglass  to  his  eye, 
and  began  to  examine  this  student  who  did  not  share  his 
*'  uneasiness." 

But  that  did  not  at  all  alarm  Neshdanof  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, the  young  man  immediately  raised  his  eyes  and  met 
the  stare  of  the  haughty  official  ;  and  the  same  sudden  im- 
pression that  had  made  him  see  in  Marianne  a  friend,  showed 
him  in  Kallomei'tsef  an  enemy. 

Kallomeitsef,  too,  had  the  same  impression  ;  he  let  his 
glass  fall,  turned  away,  sought  for  a  jest — and  found  none. 
Anna  Zakharovna  alone,  who  had  a  secret  veneration  for 
him,  took  his  part,  and  became  angrier  than  ever  with  the 
unlucky  guest  who  had  separated  her  from  Kola. 

The  dinner  was  soon  at  an  end.  They  went  out  on  the 
terrace  to  drink  their  coffee.     Sipiagin  and  Kallomei'tsef  lit 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  49 

their  cigars.     Sipiagin  offered  Neshdanof  an  imported  re- 
galia, but  the  young  man  refused  it. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  exclaimed  Sipiagin  ;  "  I  forgot !  you  don't 
smoke  anything  but  cigarettes." 

"  That's  a  singular  taste,"  muttered  KallomeTtsef  between 
his  teeth. 

The  student  nearly  burst  out  at  that.  He  wanted  to  an- 
swer, "  I  know  perfectly  well  the  difference  between  a  re- 
galia and  a  cigarette,  but  I  don't  want  to  owe  anybody  any- 
thing." But  he  retrained  himself,  although  not  without 
setting  down  this  new  bit  of  impertinence  to  the  debit  side 
of  his  enemy's  account. 

"Marianne,"  said  Mme.  Sipiagin  suddenly,  "don't  stand 
on  ceremony  ;  go  and  smoke  your  cigarette  ;  especially,"  she 
added,  turning  tow\ard  Neshdanof,  "  especially  as  I  under- 
stand that  in  your  set  all  the  young  ladies  smoke  ;  don't 
they  ? " 

"  You  are  right,  madame,"  answered  Neshdanof  dryly.  It 
was  the  first  time  he  had  spoken  to  Mme.  Sipiagin. 

"  As  for  me,  I  don't  smoke,"  she  continued,  half-closing 
her  velvety  eyes  with  an  appealing  expression.  "  I'm  be- 
hind the  times." 

Marianne,  slowly  and  methodically,  as  if  out  of  bravado, 
chose  a  cigarette,  took  a  match  from  the  box,  and  began  to 
smoke.     Neshdanof,  also,  lit  a  cigarette  from  hers. 

It  was  a  beautiful  evening.  Kola  and  Anna  Zakharovna 
went  into  the  garden  ;  the  others  sat  for  an  hour  on  the  ter- 
race breathing  the  pure  air.  The  conversation  \vas  tolera- 
bly animated.  KallomeTtsef  made  an  attack  on  literature  ; 
Sipiagin,  always  liberal,  defended  the  independence  of  let- 
ters, showed  their  use,  even  quoting  Chateaubriand,  on 
whom  the  Emperor  Alexander  Paulovitch  had  conferred 
the  order  of  St.  A.ndrew,  the  first  apostle. 

Neshdanof  took  no  part  in  this  discussion.  Mme.  Sip- 
iagin looked  at  him,  and  her  expression  seemed  to  say  that 
she  approved  of  this  discreet  reserve,  which  yet  somewhat 
surprised  her. 

When  tea  was  brought  in,  they  all  went  back  to  the  par- 
lor. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Neshdanof,"  said  Sipiagin,  "  we  have  here  a 


50  VIRGLY   SOIL. 

bad  habit  in  the  evening  ;  we  play  cards,  and  what  is  more, 
a  game  that  has  been  forbidden  :  stukolka.*  Just  think 
of  it  !  I  won't  ask  you  to  join  us.  But  Miss  Marianne 
will  be  kind  enough  to  play  on  the  piano  for  you  a  little. 
You  are  fond  of  music,  I'm  sure,  aren't  you  ? " 

And  without  waiting  for  a  reply  he  took  up  the  cards. 
Marianne  went  to  the  piano  and  played  neither  well  nor  ill 
some  of  Mendelssohn's  songs  without  words. 

"  Charming,  charming  !  What  a  delicate  touch  !  "  shout- 
ed Kallomeitsef  loudly  from  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

In  fact  he  had  made  the  remark  from  mere  politeness  ; 
as  for  Neshdanof,  in  spite  of  Sipiagin's  confident  asser- 
tions, he  did  not  care  in  the  least  for  music.  Mean- 
while, Sipiagin,  his  wife,  Kallomeitsef,  and  Anna  Zakha- 
rovna,  had  begun  to  play.  Kola  came  to  say  good-night, 
and  having  received  his  parents'  blessing,  and  a  great  cup- 
ful of  milk,  which  was  called  tea,  he  went  to  bed.  As  he 
was  leaving  the  room,  his  father  called  out  to  him  that  he  was 
to  begin  his  lessons  with  Mr.  Neshdanof  to-morrow.  Soon 
afterward,  seeing  that  Neshdanof  was  left  there  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  parlor  with  nothing  to  do,  and  that  he  was  pre- 
tending to  take  an  interest  in  a  photograph  album,  he  told 
him  not  to  stand  on  ceremony,  and  that  he'd  better  go  to 
his  own  room  and  get  a  good  night's  sleep,  especially  as  he 
must  be  tired  after  the  journey  ;  besides,  liberty  was  the 
rule  of  the  house. 

Neshdanof  availed  himself  of  this  permission,  bade  them 
all  good-night,  and  left  the  room.  On  the  threshold  he 
passed  Marianne,  whom  he  looked  at  full  in  the  face  ;  she 
not  only  did  not  smile,  but  she  even  frowned  a  little,  and  yet 
he  felt  again  that  she  would  be  a  friend  and  comrade  to 
him. 

He  found  his  room  full  of  fragrant  freshness  ;  the  win- 
dows had  been  open  all  day.  In  the  garden,  just  opposite 
his  windows,  a  nightingale  was  uttering  short,  thrilling 
notes  ;  and  in  the  sky,  above  the  rounding  tops  of  the  lin- 
dens, was  an  indistinct,  ruddy,  warm  light — it  came  from 
the  rising  moon. 

*  A  sort  of  lansquenet. 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


51 


Neshdanof  lit  a  candle ;  gray  moths,  with  powdery- 
wings,  at  once  came  flocking  and  whirling  in  from  the  dark 
garden,  and  the  wind  that  drove  them  made  the  blue  and 
yellow  flame  of  the  candle  flicker. 

"  What  a  singular  thing,"  thought  Neshdanof,  who  was 
already  in  bed.  "  The  family  and,  indeed,  every  one  here 
seems  good,  liberal,  humane  even — and  yet  I  feel  very  un- 
comfortable. A  chamberlain — a  gentleman  of  the  cham- 
ber. Bah  !  the  morning  light  brings  wisdom.  Too  much 
sentimentality  !  "     •■ 

But  at  that  very  moment  he  heard  the  repeated  blows 
which  tTie  watchman  struck  upon  a  sheet  of  iron  ;  a  voice 
slowly  cried  : 

"  Watch  !  " 

"  Watch  !  "  repeated  another  mournful  voice. 

"  The  devil  !  "  said  Neshdanof  to  himself.  "  One  would 
think  we  were  in  a  fortress." 


VIII. 

NESHDANOF  awoke  early  ;  without  waiting  for  a 
servant  to  appear,  he  dressed  himself  and  went  out 
into  the  garden. 

It  was  a  large  and  pretty  garden,  kept  in  admirable 
order.  Some  hired  laborers  Avere  raking  the  walks ; 
through  the  dazzling  green  of  the  shrubs  one  saw,  flitting 
to  and  fro,  the  red  handkerchiefs  which  served  as  head- 
gear for  little  peasant  girls,  who  were  also  armed  with 
rakes. 

Neshdanof  strolled  along  to  the  shores  of  the  pond  ;  the 
morning  fog  had  cleared  away,  but  some  mist  still  hung 
about  the  shady  recesses  of  the  bank.  The  sun,  still  low 
in  the  sky,  threw  great  rose-colored  reflections  on  the 
smooth,  mirror-like  surface  of  the  water. 

Five  carpenters  went  and  came  by  the  foot-bridge  ;  a 
new,  freshly-painted  boat  swayed  lightly  from  side  to  side 
on  the  water,  making  slight  ripples  around  it.  Quiet  and 
subdued  voices  were  heard  from  time  to  time  ;  everything 
breathed  the  calm  of  the  morning,  the  conscientious  assi- 
duity of  work  well  begun,  the  order  and  regularity  of  a 
tranquil  and  well-established  life.  And  around  a  turn  of 
the  walk  Neshdanof  saw  appear  the  very  personification 
of  order  and  regularity,  Sipiagin  himself. 

He  wore  a  long  green  frock-coat — a  sort  of  dressing- 
gown — and  a  gayly  striped  cap  ;  he  leaned  as  he  walked 
on  an  English  cane ;  his  freshly-shaven  countenance 
beamed  with  satisfaction  ;  he  liad  come  out  to  view  his 
domain. 

Sipiagin  inquired  most  affably  after  Neshdanof's  health. 

"  Ah  !  "  he  said,  "  I  see  you  are  young,  but  matinal." 
(He  used  the  word  matinal  in  its  real  sense  and  not  in  the 
figurative  sense  it  has  in  the  Russian  proverb  :  "  Young 

52 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  53 

but  precocious."  He  doubtless  meant  to  congratulate 
Neshdanof  on  the  fact  that,  like  himself — Sipiagin — he  was 
not  too  much  addicted  to  lying  in  bed.)  "  We  all  drink 
tea,  in  the  dining-room,  at  eight  o'clock  and  breakfast  at 
noon  ;  at  ten  o'clock  Kola  will  take  his  first  lesson  in  Rus- 
sian with  you,  and  at  two  o'clock  his  history  lesson.  To- 
morrow, the  9th  of  May,  his  birthday,  he  will  have  no  les- 
sons ;  but  I  will  ask  you  to  begin  with  him  to-day." 

Neshdanof  assented  ;  Sipiagin  took  leave  of  him  in  the 
French  fashion,  wavjjig  his  hand  several  times  before  his 
face,  and  continued  his  way  whistling,  not  like  a  lofty 
dignitary,  but  like  a  worthy  Russian  country  gentleman. 

Neshdanof  remained  in  the  garden  until  eight  o'clock, 
when  the  sound  of  a  gong  recalled  him  to  the  house  ;  he 
found  the  whole  family  assembled  in  the  dining-room. 

Mme.  Sipiagin  gave  him  a  most  gracious  reception  ;  in 
her  morning  dress,  she  seemed  to  him  a  perfect  beauty. 
Marianne's  face  wore  the  concentrated  and  almost  severe 
expression  which  Avas  habitual  to  it. 

Precisely  at  ten  the  first  lesson  began  in  the  presence  of 
Mme.  Sipiagin  ;  she  first  asked  Neshdanof  if  her  being 
present  would  disturb  him.  And  her  demeanor,  during 
the  lesson,  was  as  retiring  as  possible. 

Kola  proved  intelligent,  and  the  first  awkwardness  and 
hesitation  past,  the  lesson  went  on  famously.  Valentine 
Michai'lovna  seemed  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  teacher  ; 
she  spoke  to  him  several  times  very  kindly.  He  was 
guarded  in  his  behavior,  but  not  too  much  so. 

Mme.  Sipiagin  was  also  present  at  the  second  lesson, 
that  on  Russian  history.  She  said,  smiling,  that  she  had 
almost  as  much  need  of  a  teacher  as  Kola.  She  behaved 
with  as  much  discretion  as  during  the  morning's  lesson. 

From  three  to  five  o'clock  Neshdanof  remained  in  his 
room  to  write  to  Petersburg.  He  felt  very  comfortable, 
and  no  longer  dissatisfied  or  troubled  ;  his  irritated  nerves 
recovered  little  by  little  their  normal  tranquillity.  They 
were  racked  again,  however,  during  dinner,  although  Kal- 
lomeVtsef  was  not  there  and  the  lady  of  the  house  con- 
tinued to  be  very  gracious  to  him  ;  but  it  was  just  this 
patronizing  air  which  irritated  him.     Besides,  his  neighbor 


54  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

at  table,  the  old  maid  Anna  Zakharovna,  was  evidently  hos- 
tile to  him  ;  Marianne  persisted  in  her  seriousness  ;  Kola, 
however,  with  rather  excessive  familiarity,  kicked  his  legs 
under  the  table. 

Sipiagin  himself  seemed  to  be  in  a  bad  humor.  He 
was  very  much  discontented  with  a  German  whom  he 
had  brought  at  great  expense  to  manage  his  paper  fac- 
tory. 

Sipiagin  railed  at  all  Germans,  and  declared  he  was 
a  Slavophil  up  to  a  certain  point,  although  not  a  fanatic  on 
the  subject  ;  he  spoke  of  a  young  Russian  named  Solo- 
mine,  who  managed  a  factory  for  a  neighboring  merchant, 
and  managed  it  extremely  well  ;  he  wished  very  much  to 
make  this  Solomine's  acquaintance. 

Toward  evening  arrived  Kallomei'tsef,  whose  own  estate 
was  only  ten  versts  distant  from  Arjanova,  as  Sipiagin's 
place  was  called.  A  justice  of  the  peace  came  too,  then 
another  land-owner,  one  of  the  kind  whom  Lermontof  char- 
acterized so  neatly  : 

"  Buried  in  his  cravat,  his  coat  reaching  down  to  his  heels, 
Heavily  mustached,  with  a  dull  look  and  a  falsetto  voice." 

Another  neighbor  then  came  ;  he  had  a  horribly  doleful 
and  toothless  countenance,  but  was  very  neatly  dressed. 
The  doctor  of  the  district  also  came  ;  he  was  a  poor  phy- 
sician, very  fond  of  scientific  terms,  who  announced,  for 
instance,  that  he  greatly  preferred  Koakolink*  to  Pouch- 
kine,  because  he  had  so  much  more  "  protoplasm."  They 
began  to  play  cards.  Neshdanof  retired  to  his  room, 
where  he  read  and  wrote  till  after  midnight. 

On  the  next  day,  the  9th  of  May,  was  celebrated  Kola's 
birthday,  or  rather  his  nameday.  The  family  drove  in  a 
body  to  church  in  three  open  barouches,  with  footmen  up 
behind,  although  it  was  not  more  than  three  hundred  yards 
from  the  house.  Everything  was  done  very  correctly  and 
very  superbly.  Sipiagin  mounted  his  broad  red  ribbon. 
Mme.  Sipiagin  wore  a  superb  Paris  dress  of  pale  lilac,  and 
during  the  service  used  a  little  prayer-book  bound  in  crim- 

*  A  mediocre  dramatic  poet. —  Tr. 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


55 


son  velvet  ;  some  of  the  old  peasants  were  much  puzzled 
by  this  little  book,  and  one  of  them  could  not  help  whis- 
pering to  his  neighbor  : 

"  God  forgive  me,  can  she  be  telling  her  fortune  ? " 

The  scent  of  the  flowers  with  which  the  church  was 
filled,  mingled  with  the  stronger  emanations  from  the  peas- 
ants' smockfrocks  just  newly  cleaned  with  sulphur  and 
from  their  freshly  tarred  boots  and  shoes  ;  and  above  all 
floated  the  agreeable  but  somewhat  stifling  odor  of  incense. 
The  sub-deacons  and*sextons  made  praiseworthy  efforts  at 
choir  singing,  and,  aided  by  their  factory  workmen,  they 
even  attempted  a  sort  of  concert.  There  was  one  rather 
painful  moment  for  their  audience,  when  a  tenor  voice 
(which  belonged  to  one  of  the  workmen  named  Klime,  a 
delicate,  consumptive  creature)  launched  out  alone  without 
the  slightest  support,  and  attempted  a  series  of  chromatic 
and  minor  scales  ;  these  scales  were  terrible,  but  if  they 
had  stopped,  the  whole  concert  would  have  fallen  through. 
At  last  it  was  over  without  too  many  accidents.  Then  Father 
Ciprian,  a  priest  of  most  imposing  exterior,  dressed  in  his 
robes  of  honor,  and  wearing  his  chimney-pot  hat,  preached  a 
most  instructive  sermon,  which  he  read  from  a  little  paper- 
covered  book  ;  unfortunately,  however,  the  too  conscien- 
tious father  considered  it  indispensable  to  quote  the  names 
of  some  Assyrian  kings,  the  pronunciation  of  which  great- 
ly troubled  him,  and,  if  he  proved  his  erudition,  he  also 
made  himself  most  uncomfortably  warm  over  them. 

Neshdanof,  who  had  not  set  foot  in  a  church  for  a  long 
time,  took  refuge  in  a  corner  among  the  peasants.  They 
scarcely  noticed  him,  they  were  so  busily  engaged  in  cross- 
ing themselves,  making  deep  inclinations,  and  carefully 
wiping  their  children's  noses  ;  but  the  little  peasant  girls, 
dressed  in  new  frocks,  and  with  strings  of  glass  beads  hung 
across  their  foreheads,  and  the  little  boys,  in  loose  shirts 
fastened  in  at  the  waist,  and  with  red  checked  and  em- 
broidered suspenders,  turned  their  heads  in  his  direction, 
and  regarded  the  new-comer  with  open-mouthed  curiosity. 
Neshdanof  also  looked  at  them  and  thought — of  a  great 
many  things. 

After  the  mass,  which  was  a  long  one,  for,  as  every  one 


56  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

knows,  the  prayer  to  Nicholas  Thaiimaturgus  is  one  of  the 
longest  in  the  liturgy,  all  those  present  at  Sipiagin's  invita- 
tion directed  their  steps  toward  the  seignorial  mansion, 
where  they  went  through  with  some  more  appropriate  cere- 
monials, sprinkled  holy  water  in  all  the  rooms,  and  were  at 
last  gratified  by  a  bountiful  breakfast,  during  which  the 
conversation  was  generally  edifying  but  somewhat  dull. 

The  hosts  themselves,  although  it  was  not  their  breakfast 
hour,  partook  slightly,  nevertheless,  of  the  collation,  mak- 
ing a  pretense  at  eating  and  drinking. 

Sipiagin  even  deigned  to  relate  a  very  proper,  but  some- 
what amusing,  anecdote,  which,  coming  as  it  did  from  a 
great  dignitary  decorated  with  a  red  ribbon,  produced 
what  might  be  called  a  delightful  impression.  As  to  Father 
Ciprian,  this  anecdote  awoke  in  his  heart  a  sense  of  grate- 
ful admiration. 

In  his  turn,  to  show  that  he  also  was  capable  of  saying 
something  instructive  on  occasion.  Father  Ciprian  told 
them  about  the  conversation  he  had  had  with  the  arch- 
bishop when,  in  traveling  through  his  diocese,  he  had  sent 
for  all  the  district  priests  to  come  and  see  him  at  the  mon- 
astery in  the  town. 

"  He  is  a  strict  man,  very  strict  !  "  Father  Ciprian  as- 
sured them.  "  First,  he  questioned  us  about  our  parishes 
and  our  revenues,  then  he  put  us  through  an  examination. 
'  What  is  the  dedicatory  feast  of  your  church  ? '  he  asked 
me.  'The  Transfiguration.'  'And  do  you  know  the 
chant  for  the  day  ? '  '  Certainly.'  '  Sing  it,  then  !  '  I  ac- 
cordingly sang  '  Christ,  our  Lord,  was  transfigured  on  the 
Mountain.'  '  Enough  !  What  is  the  Transfiguration,  and 
how  must  we  interpret  it  ?  '  I  replied,  '  Christ  wished  to 
show  himself  in  all  his  glory  to  his  disciples  !  '  '  Very 
good,'  said  he  ;  '  here  is  a  little  image  that  I  will  give  you 
as  a  souvenir.'  I  knelt  before  him,  and  thanked  him  so 
well  that  he  did  not  let  me  go  away  with  an  empty  stomach." 

"  I  have  the  honor  of  a  personal  acquaintance  with  his 
eminence,"  said  Sipiagin  gravely.  "  He  is  a  very  merito- 
rious priest." 

"  Very,  meritorious,"  Father  Ciprian  repeated.  "  But 
he  has  a  little  too  much  confidence  in  the  deans." 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  57 

Mme.  Siplagin  then  spoke  of  the  village  school  in  which 
Miss  ]\Iarianne  was  to  teach  ;  the  deacon  and  school  in- 
spector, a  man  of  athletic  frame,  whose  long,  waving  hair 
somewhat  recalled  the  well-combed  mane  of  an  Orlof  stal- 
lion, tried  to  express  his  approbation  of  this  ;  but  not 
having  gauged  the  strength  of  his  lungs,  he  roared  so  that 
he  frightened  everybody,  and  was  himself  ready  to  sink 
through  the  floor  with  embarrassment.  After  this  the 
clergy  withdrew. 

Kola,  in  his  beautjful  little  jacket  with  gold  buttons, 
was  the  hero  of  the  day  ;  he  was  overwhelmed  with  gifts 
and  congratulations,  the  factory  people,  the  £>voi-ovie* — old 
women,  and  little  girls,  came  crowding  into  the  back  and 
front  staircases  to  kiss  his  hand  ;  the  peasants,  following 
the  old  custom  of  the  time  of  serfdom,  were  buzzing  con- 
fusedly about  the  tables  placed  in  front  of  the  house,  and 
laden  with  cakes  and  bottles  of  brandy. 

Kola,  half  bashful  and  half  delighted,  proud  and  timid, 
in  turn,  was  at  one  moment  running  about  outside,  at  the 
next,  coming  in  to  kiss  his  parents.  At  the  end  of  dinner, 
Sipiagin  had  some  champagne  brought,  and  before  propos- 
ing his  son's  health,  made  a  speech. 

He  explained  in  the  first  place  what  doing  one's  "  duty 
here  below"  consists  in,  and  what  course  he  hoped  to  see 
followed  by  his  son  Nicholas  (for  so  he  called  him  on  this 
occasion),  and  what  ought  to  be  expected  of  him  in  the 
first  place,  by  his  family  ;  secondly,  by  society  ;  thirdly, 
by  the  people — yes,  gentlemen,  the  people — and  fourthly, 
by  the  government  ! 

Warming  as  he  went  on,  he  at  last  became  really  elo- 
quent, while  thrusting  his  hand — in  imitation  of  Sir  Rob- 
ert Peel — into  the  breast  of  his  coat ;  he  pronounced  the 
word  "  science  "  with  emotion,  and  ended  his  discourse 
by  the  exclamation  laboremus,  which  he  at  once  translated 
into  Russian. 

Kola,  glass  in  hand,  went  round  the  table  to  thank  his 
father,  and  kiss  the  company.  Neshdanof  exchanged 
glances  with  Marianne.     They  probably  felt  alike  in  re- 

*  Dvorovie.     Servants  employed  about  the  mansion-house. 


58  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

gard  to  the  proceedings.  But  they  did  not  exchange  a 
Avord  with  each  other. 

This  spectacle  seemed  to  Neshdanof  amusing  and  inter- 
esting rather  than  repugnant  or  disagreeable,  and  the 
amiable  hostess,  Valentine  Michhailovna,  seemed  to  him 
an  intelligent  woman  who  knew  that  she  was  playing  a  part, 
and  who  was  at  the  same  time  secretly  glad  to  be  understood 
by  some  one  intelligent  and  clear-sighted  enough  to  ...  . 
Neshdanof  himself  did  not  suspect  to  what  a  degree  his 
vanity  was  flattered  by  Mrae.  Sipiagin's  demeanor  toward 
him. 

The  next  day  the  lessons  were  taken  up  again  and  life 
returned  to  its  old  routine. 

A  week  slipped  by  unnoticed — as  to  Neshdanof's  impres- 
sions and  thoughts  during  this  time,  the  best  way  to  give 
an  idea  of  them  will  be  to  quote  part  of  a  letter  which  he 
wrote  to  a  certain  Siline,  his  old  college-chum  and  his  best 
friend. 

This  Siline  did  not  live  at  Petersburg,  but  in  a  large 
and  remote  city,  with  a  distant  relative  on  whom  he  was 
entirely  dependent.  His  position  was  so  irrevocably  fixed 
that  the  idea  of  escaping  from  it  never  came  into  his  head. 
He  was  a  delicate  young  fellow  of  a  timid  and  not  very 
active  mind,  but  an  exceptionably  candid  soul.  He  es- 
chewed politics,  read  a  little,  played  the  flute  for  amuse- 
ment, and  shunned  young  ladies.  He  had  the  warmest 
affection  for  Neshdanof  ;  his  heart  was  very  open  to  affec- 
tion. 

Neshdanof  was  never  absolutely  himself  except  with 
Vladimir  Siline  ;  when  he  wrote  to  him  it  was  as  if  he  were 
talking  with  a  well-known  and  sympathetic  being,  who  lived 
in  another  world,  or  with  his  own  inner  consciousness. 
Neshdanof  never  even  thought  of  how  he  could  get  along 
again  with  Siline  as  his  chum,  or  in  the  same  town.  If 
this  had  happened,  he  would  probably  have  soon  cooled 
toward  him,  for  their  two  natures  had  very  few  points  of 
contact  ;  but  he  wrote  to  him  spontaneously,  frankly,  and 
at  great  length.  With  other  people — in  his  correspondence, 
at  least — he  was  somewhat  pretentious  and  affected  ;  with 
Siline,  never. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  59 

Siline,  unskillful  with  his  pen,  answered  Neshdanof  s  let- 
ters seldom,  and  then  in  a  few  short,  ill-turned  phrases  ;  but 
Neshdanof  did  not  feel  the  need  of  long  answers  ;  he  knew 
— and  this  was  enough — that  his  friend  absorbed  every  word 
of  his,  as  a  dusty  road  absorbs  drops  of  rain  ;  that  he  kept 
his  secrets  most  sacredly,  and  that,  lost  in  a  solitude  from 
which  he  never  escaped,  he  lived  only  in  the  life  of  his 
friend.  Neshdahof  never  mentioned  to  any  one  this  cor- 
respondence with  Siline,  which  was  more  precious  to  him 
than  anything  else  in  l^e  world. 

"  Well,  my  good  friend,  my  trusty  Vladimir  "  (for  so  he 
always  called  him  in  his  letters,  and  not  without  reason), 
"  congratulate  me !  I've  put  myself  out  to  grass,  and 
that  will  give  me  time  to  get  strong  again.  I've  taken  a 
situation  with  a  rich  dignitary,  Sipiagin  by  name  ;  I  teach 
his  cub  ;  I  eat  splendidly,  I  have  never  eaten  so  well  in  my 
life  !  I  sleep  like  a  log  ;  I  stroll  about  at  my  leisure  in  a 
very  beautiful  country,  and,  above  all,  I'm  free  at  last  from 
the  tutelage  of  my  friends  in  Petersburg.  At  first  I  was 
awfully  bored,  but  now  I've  got  the  better  of  that. 

"  I  shall  soon  have  to  take  up  my  knapsack  again,  in 
other  words,  allow  myself  to  be  taken  up  again,  since  I  have 
given  myself  out  to  be  a  regular  mushroom,  as  the  proverb 
says.  It  was  just  for  that  reason  that  they  let  me  go  ;  but 
meanwhile,  I  can  give  myself  up  to  this  pleasant  animal 
life.  I  can  enjoy  good  eating,  and  even,  if  the  fancy  takes 
me,  write  verses  to  you  !  As  for  descriptions  of  the  coun- 
try hereabouts,  you  shall  have  them  later  ;  the  estate  seems 
to  me  in  very  good  order,  excepting  the  factory,  which  is 
in  very  poor  trim  ;  the  freed  serfs  are  very  hard  to  get  at, 
and  as  to  the  hired  servants,  they  have  much  too  elegant 
an  appearance  !  But  we  will  discuss  all  that  by  and  by. 
The  family  are  so  polite,  so  liberal  !  The  master  of  the 
house  is  very  condescending  ;  then,  once  in  a  while,  he 
straightens  himself  up  and  towers  above  the  rest  of  us  ;  he  is 
a  very  civilized  man  !  His  wife  is  a  beauty  and  probably  a 
sly  puss  ;  she  has  a  way  of  watching  people — and  with  all 
that  what  softness  !  One  would  say  that  she  had  not  a  bone 
in  her  body  !  She  quite  staggers  me  ;  you  know  what  a 
gallant  cavalier  I  am  !  There  are  some  unendurable  neigh- 


6o  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

bors  and  an  old  woman  who  persecutes  me  ;  but  the  person 
who  interests  most  is  a  young  girl — a  relation  or  companion 
— I  don't  know  which — with  whom  I  have  not  exchanged 
three  words,  but  who  seems  to  be  of  my  stamp." 

Then  came  a  description  of  Marianne's  appearance  and 
manners,  and  then  he  continued  : 

"  She  is  proud,  unhappy,  easily  wounded,  reserved,  but 
above  all,  unhappy,  there  can  be  no  question  of  that. 
Why  she  is  unhappy  I  don't  yet  know.  She  has  an  honest 
nature,  I  am  sure.     Is  she  good  ?  that  is  another  question. 

"  But  can  women  be  perfectly  good  if  they  are  not  stupid  ? 
And  is  it  necessary  that  they  should  be  ?  To  continue  (I 
know  little  about  women),  the  mistress  of  the  house  does 
not  like  her,  in  fact,  there  is  no  love  lost  between  them.  But 
which  of  the  two  is  in  the  right  I  don't  know.  I'm  in- 
clined to  believe  that  the  older  woman  is  in  the  wrong,  for 
she  is  excessively  polite  to  the  girl  ;  whilst  the  latter 
twitches  her  eyebrows  if  she  merely  speaks  to  her  patroness. 
Yes,  she  is  a  very  nervous  creature,  and  in  that  we  are 
alike.  She  is  '  out  of  her  element,'  like  me,  although 
from  a  different  cause,  probably. 

"  When  I  find  out  how  matters  really  stand,  I  will  write 
to  you. 

"  I  have  already  told  you  that  she  scarcely  ever  speaks 
to  me  ;  but  in  the  few  words  that  she  has  addressed  to  me 
(always  suddenly  and  unexpectedly),  I  see  a  sort  of  frank 
friendliness,  which  is  very  pleasant  to  me. 

"  By  the  way,  how. long  is  that  relative  of  yours  going  to 
keep  you  on  dry  bread  diet  ?  When  will  he  get  out  of  the 
way  ? 

"  Did  you  read  an  article  in  the  last  Messager  iT Europe, 
on  the  last  pretenders  to  the  government  of  Orenbourg  ? 
That  took  place  in  1834,  my  dear  fellow  !  I  do  not  like 
this  review,  and  the  author  of  the  article  is  a  conservative  ; 
but  the  thing  is  very  interesting,  and  suggests  many  re- 
flections." 


IX. 

MAY  was  near  its  close,  and  the  first  hot  days  of  summer 
were  beginning.  After  ending  his  history  lesson, 
Neshdanof  went  out  into  the  garden,  and  went  from  there 
into  the  little  grove  ctf  birch  trees  adjoining  ;  a  part  of  the 
wood  had  been  cut  down  fifteen  years  before,  and  upon 
this  spot  had  sprung  up  a  thick  undergrowth  of  young 
trees.  Their  stems  rose  close  together  and  straight,  like 
little  silvery  columns  encircled  with  gay  lines  ;  their  num- 
berless little  leaves  were  of  a  very  bright,  vivid  green,  as  if 
they  had  been  washed  and  varnished  ;  the  spring  grass 
darted  its  fine  sharp  tongues  over  the  even  couch  of  dead 
leaves  with  which  the  past  autumn  had  covered  the  ground, 
The  copse  was  all  intersected  with  little  paths  ;  the  yellow 
beaked  blackbirds,  with  shrill  cries  of  fright,  flew  along 
these  paths  almost  touching  the  ground,  and  hurled  them- 
selves headlong  into  the  thicket. 

After  half  an  hour's  walk  Neshdanof  seated  himself  on 
an  old  stump,  surrounded  by  heaps  of  blackened  chips, 
which  lay  just  as  they  had  fallen  under  the  blows  of  the 
axe — many  times  had  the  snows  of  winter  covered  them 
and  then  melted  away  again  in  the  spring,  leaving  them 
undisturbed. 

Neshdanof  sat  with  his  back  turned  to  a  close-growing 
row  of  young  birches  whose  short  but  thick  shadow  extended 
the  length  of  the  clump.  He  thought  of  nothing  ;  he  gave 
himself  wholly  up  to  that  peculiar  feeling  which  Spring- 
time brings,  and  which  in  the  heart  of  youth  or  age  is 
mingled  with  a  sort  of  melancholy — the  agitated  melan- 
choly of  longing  expectancy  in  the  youth  ;  the  quiet 
melancholy  of  regret  in  the  aged. 

Suddenly  Neshdanof  heard  a  sound  of  approaching 
steps.  It  was  not  a  man  walking  alone,  nor  was  it  a  peas- 
ant with  his  heavy  boots  or  wooden  shoes,  nor  was  it  a 

6i 


62  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

peasant  girl  with  bare  feet.  There  seemed  to  be  two  per- 
sons advancing  with  slow,  even  steps,  and  there  was  the 
slight  rustle  of  a  woman's  dress. 

Suddenly  a  hollow  voice,  a  man's  voice,  was  heard  saying  : 

"  Then  that  is  your  last  word  ?    Never  ? " 

"  Never  !  "  replied  a  woman's  voice  which  was  not  un- 
familiar to  Neshdanof,  and,  a  second  after,  around  a  turn  in 
the  path  Avhich  led  to  the  clump  of  young  trees,  Marianne 
appeared  accompanied  by  a  man  of  dark,  sallow  complexion, 
with  black  eyes,  whom  Neshdanof  had  never  seen  before. 

At  the  sight  of  the  young  man,  they  both  stopped  as  if 
turned  to  stone,  and  he  was  so  surprised  by  their  sudden 
appearance  that  he  even  forgot  to  rise  from  the  tree  stump 
on  which  he  was  sitting.  Marianne  blushed  to  the  roots 
of  her  hair  and  then  smiled  scornfully. 

For  whom  was  this  smile  intended ;  was  it  because  she 
had  blushed,  or  was  it  meant  for  Neshdanof  ?  Her  com- 
panion knit  his  thick  eyebrows  ;  a  sudden  sparkle  came  into 
the  yellow  whites  of  his  restless  eyes.  Then  he  exchanged 
a  look  with  Marianne  and  they  both  slowly  and  quietly  re- 
traced their  steps,  leaving  Neshdanof,  who  followed  them 
with  an  astonished  gaze. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  he  returned  to  the  house  and 
went  up  to  his  room,  and  when,  summoned  by  the  sound 
of  the  gong,  he  entered  the  drawing-room,  he  found  the 
same  unknown  swarthy  man  whom  he  had  met  in  the 
grove  ;  Sipiagin  brought  Neshdanof  up  to  the  new-comer 
whom  he  introduced  as  his  brother-in-law  ;  the  brother  of 
Valentine  Michailovna — Serge  Michilovitch  Markelof. 

"  I  beg  you,  gentlemen,  to  make  one  another's  acquaint- 
ance, and  to  like  one  another,  too,"  exclaimed  Sipiagin  with 
the  majestically  affable  and  yet  absent  smile  habitual  to 
him. 

Markelof  made  a  silent  bow  which  Neshdanof  returned  ; 
as  for  Sipiagin,  slightly  tossing  back  his  small  head  and 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  he  went  away  as  if  saying,  "I 
have  introduced  you  to  each  other,  and  now  whether  or  no 
you  make  each  other's  acquaintance  and  like  each  other, 
is  a  matter  of  the  most  perfect  indifference  to  me." 

Valentine  Michailovna  then  came  up  to  the  silent  cou- 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


63 


pie,  presented  the  two  men  to  each  other  over  again,  and 
spoke  to  her  brother  with  that  bright  caressing  look  which 
she  so  well  knew  how  to  throw  into  her  beautiful  eyes. 

"  Well,  c/ier  Serge,  you  neglected  us  shamefully.  You 
did  not  even  come  to  Kola's  /efe.  Are  you  so  very  busy  ? 
He  is  trying  to  establish  some,  new  regulations  among  his 
peasants,"  said  she  to  Neshdanof  ;  "  such  an  original  idea  ! 
he  gives  them  three-quarters  of  the  profits  and  only  keeps 
one-quarter  for  himself  ;  and  yet  he  thinks  that  he  keeps 
too  much  for  himself-." 

"  My  sister  is  fond  of  joking,"  said  Markelof  in  his  turn  ; 
"  but  I  agree  with  her  that  to  keep  for  yourself  a  quarter 
of  what  really  belongs  to  a  hundred  people  is  taking  more 
than  your  share." 

"  Have  you  observed  that  I  was  fond  of  joking,  Alexis 
Dimitritch  ? "  asked  Mme.  Sipiagin  with  the  same  coquettish 
softness  in  her  voice  and  glance. 

Neshdanof  found  nothing  to  answer,  and  just  at  that 
moment  Kallomeitsef  was  announced.  The  mistress  of  the 
house  stepped  forward  to  greet  him,  and  a  few  minutes 
later,  a  servant  appeared  and  in  a  solemn  voice  announced 
that  dinner  was  ready. 

During  dinner,  Neshdanof  could  not  resist  looking,  in 
spite  of  himself,  at  Markelof  and  Marianne,  who  sat  side 
by  side,  both  Avith  lips  contracted  and  eyes  cast  down — 
their  expressions  somber,  severe,  and  almost  angry.  Nesh- 
danof asked  himself  how  it  could  be  that  Markelof  was 
Mme.  Sepiagin's  brother — there  was  so  little  resemblance 
between  them  ! 

Both,  it  is  true,  had  dark  complexions  ;  but  that  delicate 
opaqueness  of  face,  hands,  and  shoulders  which  was  one 
of  the  perfections  of  Mme.  Sipiagin's  beauty,  was,  in  her 
brother,  the  dark  tint  which  is  politely  called  bronze  color, 
but  which  is  really  much  more  like  the  hue  of  undressed 
leather.  Markelof  had  curly  hair,  a  slightly  hooked  nose, 
thick  lips,  hollow  cheeks,  a  thin  body,  and  nervous  hands. 
His  whole  frame  was  dry  and  nervous.  He  spoke  with  a 
rough,  metallic,  jerky  voice.  His  eyes  were  dull  and  his 
expression  morose.  He  had,  in  short,  all  the  character- 
istics of  the  bilious  temperament. 


64  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

He  ate  little,  rolled  up  his  bread  into  pellets,  and  glanced 
from  time  to  time  at  Kallomei'tsef.  The  latter  had  just 
come  from  the  town,  where  he  had  been  to  see  the  gov- 
ernor on  a  most  unpleasant  affair  of  his  own — an  affair 
which  he  took  good  care  not  to  mention,  although  chatter- 
ing like  a  magpie. 

Sipiagin  kept  him  in  check,  as  usual,  when  he  began  to 
brag  too  much  ;  but  he  laughed  heartily  at  his  jokes  and 
stories,  while  calling  him  "  a  horrible  reactionist." 

Kallomeitsef  related,  among  other  things,  how  he  had  en- 
joyed hearing  the  peasants — "  Yes  !  Yes  !  "  The  simple 
moujiks  called  lawyers  "barkers."  "Barkers,"  he  re- 
peated gleefully  ;  "  the  Russian  people  are  delicious  !  " 

He  then  told  how,  during  a  visit  which  he  paid  to  a  public 
school,  he  had  asked  the  scholars  what  a  cameleopard  was, 
and  as  no  one,  not  even  the  schoolmaster,  could  answer  his 
question,  he  put  a  second  question,  "  What  is  a  baboon  ? " 
At  the  same  time  quoting  the  line  from  Khemnitsor, 

*'  The  silly  baboon,  who  imitates  the  other  animals." 

and  none  could  answer.  "  So  you  may  see  how  useful 
public  schools  are  !  "  he  concluded. 

"  But  allow  me  to  remark,"  said  Mme.  Sipiagin,  "  that 
I  do  not  know,  myself,  what  those  animals  are  !  " 

"  Oh  !  madame,"  cried  Kallomeitsef,  "  there  is  no  need 
for  you  to  know  such  things  !  " 

"  Why  then  is  there  any  need  that  the  people  should 
know  them  ?  " 

"  Because  it  would  be  better  for  them  to  know  a  baboon 
or  cameleopard  than  a  Proudhon  or  an  Adam  Smith." 

But  here  again  Sipiagin  put  down  Kallomeitsef,  by  de- 
claring that  Adain  Smith  was  one  of  the  shining  lights  of 
human  intelligence,  that  one  ought  to  suck  in  the  principles 
he  teaches  (he  poured  out  a  glass  of  Chateau-yquem,  and 
held  it  under  his  nose)  with  his  mother's  milk. 

He  emptied  his  glass.  Kallomeitsef  did  the  same,  swear- 
ing by  all  that  was  holy  that  it  was  exquisite  wine. 

Markelof  did  not  pay  great  attention  to  the  chamber- 
lain's remarks,  but  twice  he  looked  at  Neshdanof  with  a 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  65 

singular  expression,  and  with  his  fingers  snapped  a  pellet 
of  bread,  which  came  near  hitting  the  orator  on  the  nose. 

Sipiagin  took  little  notice  of  his  brother-in-law,  nor  did 
Mme.  Sipiagin  talk  with  him  ;  they  both  evidently  consid- 
ered him  an  eccentric  person  who  must  be  let  alone  and 
not  excited. 

After  dinner,  Markelof  went  to  smoke  a  pipe  in  the  bil- 
liard room,  and'Neshdanof  returned  to  his  chamber.  In 
the  hall  he  nearly  ran  into  Marianne.  He  tried  to  pass 
her,  but  she  stopped  him  with  a  gesture. 

"  Mr.  Neshdanof,"^he  said  in  faltering  tones,  "I  ought 
not  to  carp  what  you  think  of  me.  I  think — I  think — "  (she 
paused  in  search  of  a  word)  "  I  think  it  best  to  tell  you, 
that  this  morning  when  you  saw  me  in  the  woods  with  Mr. 
Markelof — you  wondered,  did  you  not,  why  we  both  looked 
so  much  disturbed,  and  why  we  were  there,  as  if  by  appoint- 
ment ?  " 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  began  Neshdanof,  "  it  did  seem 
to  me  a  little  strange  that — " 
Marianne  interrupted  him. 

"  Mr.  Markelof,"  said  she,  "  made  me  an  offer  of  mar- 
riage, and  I  refused  him.  That  was  all  I  wished  to  tell 
you,  so  now  I  will  bid  you  good-night.  And  now  you  may 
think  what  you  please  of  me." 

She  turned  abruptly  away  and  went  along  the  corridor 
with  hasty  steps. 

Neshdanof  entered  his  chamber  and  seated  himself 
thoughtfully  before  the  window.  "  What  a  strange  girl  ! 
Why  this  extraordinary  performance  ?  Why  this  uncalled- 
for  frankness  ?  Was  it  a  desire  to  be  singular,  love  of 
talking,  or  pride  ?  Probably  pride.  She  could  not  endure 
suspicion.  She  could  not  bear  that  any  one  should  form  a 
false  opinion  of  her — a  queer  girl." 

So  meditated  Neshdanof,  and  meanwhile  they  were 
talking  about  him  out  on  the  terrace.  He  could  hear  every 
word  they  said. 

"  My  nose  tells  me,"  affirmed  Kallomei'tsef,  "my  nose  tells 
me  that  he  is  a  red  republican  !  In  old  times  when  I  was 
on  a  special  mission  with  Ladislas,  the  Governor-General 
of  Moscow,  I  had  to  have  a  great  deal  to  do  with  such 


66  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

gentlemen,  and  also  with  raskolniks*  and  I  have  a  first-rate 
nose  for  them." 

Kallomeitsef  related,  in  this  connection,  how,  one  day, 
on  the  outskirts  of  Moscow,  he  had  caught  by  the  heel  an 
old  raskolink,  whom  he  had  pounced  down  upon  unexpect- 
edly with  the  police,  and  "  who  did  not  quite  have  time  to 
jump  out  of  the  window  of  the  isba — up  to  that  moment  he 
had  sat  quietly  on  his  bench,  the  good-for-nothing." 

Kallomeitsef  forgot  to  add  that  this  same  old  man,  hav- 
ing been  taken  to  prison,  had  refused  all  food  and  starved 
himself  to  death. 

"  As  for  your  new  tutor,"  continued  this  zealous  gentle- 
man, "  he  is  certainly  a  red  republican.  Have  you  not  no- 
ticed how  he  never  bows  first  ?  " 

"  But  why  should  he  bow  first  ?  "  objected  Mme.  Sipia- 
gin  ;  "  I,  on  the  contrary,  think  that  is  very  proper  in 
him." 

"  I  am  a  guest  in  the  house  where  he  works.  Yes,  yes, 
where  he  works  for  money,  like  a  hired  servant !  Then  I 
am  his  superior  !     It  is  his  duty  to  bow  to  me  first." 

"  You  are  exacting,  my  very  good  friend,"  interposed 
Sipiagin,  laying  stress  on  the  word  "  very."  "  Allow  me  to 
say,  that  all  these  ideas  of  yours  are  much  behind  the 
times.  I  may  have  bought  his  services,  his  work,  but  he  is 
none  the  less  a  free  man." 

"  He  does  not  feel  the  bit !  "  resumed  Kallomeitsef  ; 
"these  '  reds '  are  all  alike,  I  can  always  smell  them  out. 
I  know  no  one  but  Ladislas  who  can  rival  me  on  this  point. 
If  this  little  tutor  had  fallen  into  my  hands  I  should  have 
given  him  a  good  shaking !  Oh !  how  I  would  have 
shaken  him  !  He  would  soon  have  sung  another  tune, 
and  if  he  had  dared  wear  his  hat  in  my  presence — you 
would  soon  have  seen.  It  would  have  been  as  good  as  a 
play  !  " 

"  Bragging  rascal  !  "  Neshdanof  came  near  shouting  from 

his  window. 

But  at  just  this  moment  his  door  opened,  and  to  his  great 
surprise  Markelof  entered. 

*  Raskolink,  malcontent,  dissenter. 


X. 

NESHDAInTOF  stood  up,  and  Markelof  walked  straight 
up  to  him  and  said,  without  bowing  or  even  smihng  : 

"  You  are  really  Alexis  Dimitrief  Neshdanof,  student  of 
the  University  of  St.  Petersburg  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Neshdanof. 

Markelof  took  from  his  breast  pocket  an  unsealed  let- 
ter. 

"In  that  case,  read  this.  It  is  fromVassili  Nicholai- 
vitch,"  he  added,  lowering  his  voice  significantly. 

Neshdanof  opened  and  read  the  letter.  It  was  a  sort  of 
semi-official  circular,  in  which  Serge  Markelof  was  recom- 
mended as  "  one  of  us  "  and  worthy  of  all  confidence  ; 
then  followed  instructions  upon  the  immediate  necessity  of 
a  common  understanding,  and  of  the  propagation  of  ideas 
among  the  people — he  knew  what  sort  of  ideas.  This  cir- 
cular was,  besides,  addressed  to  Neshdanof,  as  a  man  who 
was  also  deserving  of  the  most  absolute  confidence. 

Neshdanof  held  out  his  hand  to  Markelof,  offered  him  a 
chair,  and  sat  down  himself.  The  visitor,  before  saying  a 
word,  lit  a  cigarette  ;  Neshdanof  followed  his  example. 

"  Have  you  had  time  to  enter  into  relations  with  the 
peasants  here  ?  "  asked  Markelof  at  length. 

"  No,  not  yet." 

"  Have  you  been  here  long  ?  " 

"  About  a  fortnight." 

"  You  are  kept  very  busy  ? " 

"  Not  very." 

Markelof  coughed  with  a  displeased  look. 

"  Hum !  You  can't  much  depend  on  the  peasants 
hereabouts,"  continued  he  ;  "  they  are  perfect  nonentities. 
They  need  teaching.  There  is  great  poverty  among  them, 
and  they  have  no  one  to  explain  to  them  the  causes  of 
their  poverty." 

67 


68  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"But  as  far  as  one  can  judge,  those  who  once  were 
your  brother-in-law's  serfs  don't  seem  to  be  so  very  badly 
off,"  objected  Neshdanof. 

"  My  brother  is  an  expert  in  the  art  of  throwing  dust  in 
people's  eyes.  The  peasants  here  don't  count  for  any- 
thing ;  but  there  is  a  paper  mill,  and  we  will  concentrate 
all  our  efforts  there.  One  blow  of  the  pickax  into  that 
ant  hill,  and  you  will  see  how  stirred  up  they  will  be. 
Have  you  any  pamphlets  with  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  not  many." 

"  I  will  get  you  some.     But  how  thoughtless  !  " 

Neshdanof  did  not  answer  ;  Markelof  silently  blew  smoke 
through  his  nose  for  a  few  moments. 

"  What  a  miserable  scoundrel  that  Kallomei'tsef  is,"  said 
he  suddenly  ;  "  during  dinner  I  had  a  strong  desire  to  go 
up  to  the  gentleman  and  slap  his  insolent,  little,  ugly  face, 
and  give  him  a  lesson.  But  no  !  in  these  times  there  are 
more  important  things  to  do  than  thrashing  chamberlains. 
This  is  not  the  time  to  get  angry  with  idiots  who  use  bad 
words  ;  it  is  much  more  important  to  prevent  their  doing 
bad  deeds." 

Neshdanof  nodded  assent,  and  Markelof  went  on  smok- 
ing. "  Among  all  the  house  servants,"  he  began  again, 
"  there  is  only  one  good  fellow  ;  not  your  Ivan,  he  is  neither 
fish,  flesh,  fowl,  nor  good  red  herring ;  but  a  certain  Cyril, 
one  of  the  waiters." 

This  Cyril  was  known  to  be  a  perfect  sot. 

"  Keep  your  eye  on  him.  He's  a  complete  drunkard  ; 
but  we  must  not  be  too  dainty.  And  what  do  you  think  of 
my  sister  ?  "  added  he  brusquely  raising  his  head  and  fix- 
ing his  yellow  eyes  on  Neshdanof ;  "  she  is  even  slyer  than 
my  brother-in-law.  What  do  you  think  of  her  ?  " 
/  "  I  think  she  is  an  amiable  and  very  charming  woman — 
and  besides  she  is  very  pretty." 

"  Hem  !  You  have  such  a  refined  way  of  saying  things, 
you  Petersburg  people  !  I  admire  you  !  And  what  do 
you  think  of — " 

Here  Markelof's  face  fell,  he  frowned,  and  stopped  with- 
out finishing  his  sentence. 

"  I  see,"  he  resumed,  "  that  we  shall  have  plenty  to  talk 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


69 


about,  but  not  in  this  room.  How  the  devil  can  we  tell 
that  some  one  is  not  listening  at  the  key-hole  ?  Come,  to- 
day is  Saturday  ;  to-morrow  I  suppose  you  don't  give  my 
nephew  any  lessons,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  kind  of  rehearsal  of  his  work  with  him  to-mor- 
row at  three  o'clock." 

"  A  rehearsal  ?  Why,  it's  exactly  like  the  theater.  My 
sister  must  have  invented  that  expression — but  no  matter. 
Won't  you  come  at  once  ?  My  place  is  only  ten  versts  from 
here.  I  have  good  h(Jrses  who  trot  well  ;  .you  can  pass  the 
night  at  my  house,  and  I  will  bring  you  back  to-morrow 
morning  before  three  o'clock  ;  do  you  agree  ? " 

"As  you  please,"  answered  Neshdanof. 

Since  Markelof's  arrival  Neshdanof  had  been  in  a  state 
of  over-excitement  and  disturbance.  This  unexpected 
meeting  troubled  him,  although  Markelof  inspired  him  with 
sympathy.  He  felt,  and  saw,  that  this  man,  doubtless  of 
very  narrow  views,  was  certainly  honest  and  strong.  Be- 
sides, Marianne's  unexpected  announcement.  .  .  . 

"  That's  right !  "  cried  Markelof.  "  Get  ready  and  I 
will  go  and  tell  them  to  put  in  my  horses.  I  don't  suppose 
you  have  to  ask  leave  of  the  master  or  mistress  of  the 
house  ? " 

"  I  will  tell  them.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  ought  not  to  go 
awav  without  doing  that." 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself,"  replied  Markelof  ;  "  I'll  arrange 
it  all.  Just  now  they  are  playing  cards  ;  they  will  not  notice 
your  absence.  My  brother-in-law  flatters  himself  that  he  is 
a  statesman,  but  the  only  thing  that  he  does  really  well  is 
playing  cards.  After  all,  many  people  have  made  their 
fortunes  in  that  way.  You  get  ready,  and  I  will  see  to 
everything  else." 

Markelof  went  off.  An  hour  after,  Neshdanof  was  in- 
stalled by  his  side,  on  a  large  leather  cushion,  in  a  very  old, 
wide,  and  comfortable  tarantass  ;  a  microscopic  coachman, 
seated  on  the  end  of  a  plank,  whistled  unceasingly,  so  that 
it  sounded  like  the  gentle  twittering  of  birds  ;  the  three 
piebald  horses,  with  braided  manes  and  tails,  trotted  quickly 
along  on  the  smooth  road  ;  and,  in  the  falling  shadows  of 
night  (they  started  just  at  ten  o'clock),  they  saw  glide  rap- 


70  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

idly  past  them,  now  in  front  and  now  behind,  the  trees, 
bushes,  fields,  ravines,  and  meadows.  Markelof's  small  es- 
tate, which  only  contained  four  hundred  acres,  and  brought 
in  an  annual  revenue  of  about  seven  hundred  rubles,  was 
named  Borzionkovo  ;  it  was  situated  at  about  three  versts 
from  the  town,  from  which  Sipiagin's  estate  was  seven  versts 
distant.  To  reach  Borzionkovo,  they  were  obliged  to  pass 
through  the  town. 

The  new  friends  had  not  had  time  to  exchange  fifty 
words,  when  they  saw  before  them  the  wretched  little 
huts  of  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  with  their  half-ruined 
wooden  roofs,  and  the  patches  of  yellow  light  in  the  shat- 
tered windows  ;  then  the  city  pavements  clattered  beneath 
the  wheels  of  the  tarantass,  which  began  to  be  hurled  from 
one  side  of  the  street  to  the  other  ;  then  they  passed  jolt- 
ing by  the  merchants'  stupid  houses  with  elaborate  pedi- 
ments, the  churches  with  their  columns,  and  the  inns. 

It  was  Saturday  evening ;  there  were  few  passing  in  the 
street  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  taverns  were  crammed. 
They  could  hear  hoarse  voices,  drunken  singing,  min- 
gling with  the  nasal  sound  of  an  accordion ;  when  a  door 
opened  suddenly  there  came  out  a  puff  of  close,  hot  air, 
mixed  with  the  harsh  odor  of  brandy  and  the  red  glare  of 
the  lamps. 

Before  the  doors  of  most  of  the  taverns  the  peasants'  tel- 
egas were  standing  ;  the  fat,  long-haired  horses,  with  heads 
hanging  down,  seemed  to  be  asleep.  At  times,  a  peasant, 
with  his  shirt  and  waistcoat  open,  his  belt  loosened,  on  his 
head  a  winter  cap,  of  which  the  top  hung  down  over  his 
back  like  a  bag,  would  be  seen  staggering  out  of  the  tav- 
ern, resting  his  chest  against  one  of  the  shafts  and  standing 
there  still,  groping  about  with  his  hands,  as  if  seeking  for 
something  ;  or  else  it  was  some  puny,  feeble  factory  hand, 
his  cap  all  awry,  his  feet  bare — his  boots  being  left  in  pawn 
at  the  tavern — who,  after  staggering  a  little,  would  stop, 
scratch  his  neck,  and,  with  a  sudden  exclamation,  retrace 
his  steps. 

"  That's  what's  killing  the  Russian  peasant — brandy  !  " 
said  Markelof  gloomily. 

"  It's  to  drown  sorrow,  sir  !  "  answered  the  coachman, 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


71 


without  looking  round.  As  he  passed  each  tavern,  he  had 
stopped  whistUng  and  seemed  to  become  absorbed  in  him- 
self. 

"  Go  on,  go  on  !  "  answered  Markelof,  tugging  energeti- 
cally at  his  own  collar. 

The  tarantass  crossed  the  broad  market-place,  which 
was  filled  with  the  smell  of  cabbages  and  of  matted  linden 
branches,  passed  before  the  governor's  house,  which  was 
flanked  by  tw(3  black  and  white  striped  sentry-boxes  ;  be- 
fore the  police-station  with  its  signal  tower  ;  followed  the 
boulevard,  in  which  ^oung  trees  had  just  been  set  out  that 
already  were  half  dead  ;  it  passed  by  the  gostinnoi'dvor,* 
whence  .was  heard  the  barking  of  dogs  and  the  creaking 
of  chains  ;  and,  finally,  it  reached  the  gate,  after  passing 
by  a  long,  very  long  line  of  wagons  which  had  started  at 
midnight  to  enjoy  the  coolness  of  the  night  ;  soon  the  ta- 
rantass came  out  into  the  open  air,  and  began  to  roll  more 
rapidly  and  smoothly  over  the  broad,  willow-lined  highway. 

Markelof — for  we  must  tell  something  about  him — was 
six  years  older  than  his  sister,  Mme.  Sipiagin.  He  had 
been  brought  up  at  the  artillery  school  whence  he  came  out 
an  officer  ;  but  he  resigned  from  his  lieutenancy  on  account 
of  a  disagreement  with  his  commanding  officer,  a  German. 
Since  that  time  he  had  detested  the  Germans,  especially 
Russian  Germans.  On  account  of  this  resignation  he  had 
quarreled  with  his  father  whom  he  had  not  seen  until  he 
was  dying  ;  from  him  he  had  inherited  the  little  estate  on 
which  he  lived. 

In  St.  Petersburg  he  had  associated  with  intelligent  men 
of  advanced  ideas,  who  inspired  him  with  a  sort  of  venera- 
tion and  who  had  given  his  mind  a  decisive  impulse.  He 
read  but  little,  and  almost  exclusively  on  political  subjects, 
Herzen's  works  especially.  He  had  preserved  his  military 
ways,  and  lived  like  a  Spartan  or  a  monk.  A  few  years  be- 
fore he  had  fallen  passionately  in  love  with  a  young  girl ; 
but  she  had  jilted  him  and  married  an  aide-de-camp, — 
again  a  German.  Markelof  now  began  to  detest  aides-de- 
camp also. 

*  Gostinnoidvor.     Russian  bazaar  ;  a  collection  of  booths. —  Tr. 


72 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


He  had  tried  to  write  professional  articles  on  the  defects 
of  the  Russian  artillery  ;  but  not  having  the  gift  of  stating 
things  clearly,  he  could  never  bring  a  single  article  to  a 
satisfactory  conclusion,  which,  however,  did  not  keep  him 
from  blackening  vast  pages  of  foolscap  with  ill-formed, 
boyish  handwriting. 

He  was  an  energetic,  obstinate  man  of  great  courage, 
who  could  neither  forgive  nor  forget,  who  was  continually 
hurt  on  his  own  account  or  that  of  the  oppressed  in  general, 
and  he  was  ready  for  anything. 

His  narrow  mind  was  centered  on  a  single  object;  what 
he  did  not  understand  had  no  existence  so  far  as  he  was 
concerned  ;  but  he  despised  and  detested  falsehood  and 
lying.  With  people  of  the  upper  classes — the  reacs,  as  he 
called  them — he  was  rough  and  even  rude  ;  with  the  lower 
classes,  simple  ;  with  the  peasants,  as  kindly  as  a  brother. 

He  was  a  very  moderately  successful  proprietor.  He 
kept  turning  over  in  his  mind  all  sorts  of  socialist  plans 
that  could  never  come  to  anything,  any  more  than  his 
articles  on  the  defects  of  Russian  artillery.  As  a-  gen- 
eral rule,  he  never  succeeded  in  anything  ;  his  fellow-officers 
used  to  call  him  "  the  unlucky."  His  character  was 
frank  and  loyal,  his  disposition  passionate  and  unhappy  ; 
but  at  any  given  moment  he  could  appear  pitiless,  cruel, 
deserving  to  be  called  a  monster  ;  and  at  the  same  time  he 
was  capable  of  sacrificing  himself  utterly  without  hesitation 
and  without  reward. 

Three  versts  from  the  town,  the  tarantass  suddenly  en- 
tered the  soft  obscurity  of  a  wood  of  aspens.  The  rustle 
of  invisible,  trembling  leaves,  the  fresh,  pungent  odor  of  the 
still  air,  the  vague  glow  above,  the  dark,  confused  shadows 
below — it  was  evidently  a  wood  the  travelers  were  passing 
through.  The  moon,  red  and  broad  as  a  brazen  shield, 
had  just  risen  above  the  horizon. 

The  tarantass  had  hardly  got  out  of  the  shadow  of  the 
trees  when  it  stopped  before  the  buildings  of  a  small  estate. 
In  the  front  of  a  low  house,  of  which  the  roof  hid  the  moon, 
three  lighted  windows  stood  out  in  shining  squares,  the 
gateway  was  wide  open,  and  seemed  as  if  it  had  never  been 
closed. 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


11 


In  the  courtyard  there  could  be  descried  through  the 
darkness  a  tall  kibitka,  behind  which  two  white  post-horses 
were  tied,  and  two  white  dogs,  which  had  suddenly  sprung 
up  from  no  one  knows  where,  filled  the  air  with  their  loud 
but  not  angry  barking.  There  was  coming  and  going  in 
the  house  ;  the  tarantass  stopped  before  the  door,  and 
Markelof  feeling  with  his  foot  for  the  steps,  which  had  been 
placed,  as  is  generally  done  by  domestic  blacksmiths,  in  the 
most  inconvenient  spot,  got  out  of  the  vehicle,  saying  to 
Neshdanof, 

"  We've  got  here  dk  last,  and  you  are  going  to  see  some 
guests  whom  you  know  very  well,  but  whom  you  did  not 
expect  to  meet.     Walk  in,  please." 


XI. 

THESE  guests  were  our  old  acquaintances  Ostrodu- 
mof  and  ISIashurina.  They  were  sitting  in  the 
meagerly  furnished  little  parlor  of  Markelof's  house,  by 
the  light  of  a  kerosene  lamp,  drinking  beer,  and  smoking. 

They  were  not  surprised  at  Neshdanof's  arrival,  for  they 
knew  that  Markelof  intended  to  bring  him,  but  Neshdanof 
was  extremely  surprised  at  seeing  them. 

When  he  came  in,  Ostrodumof  said  to  him  merely, 
"  Good-day,  brother  !  " 

Mashurina's  face  suddenly  flushed  ;  she  held  out  her 
hand  without  saying  a  word. 

Markelof  explained  to  Neshdanof  that  their  two  friends 
had  been  sent  "  for  the  common  undertaking  "  which  was 
soon  to  be  begun  ;  that  they  had  left  Petersburg  a  week 
before  ;  that  Ostrodumof  would  remain  in  the  government 

of  S to  get  converts,  and  that  Mashurina  was  going  to 

K to  have  an  interview  with  one  of  the  members. 

Markelof  grew  very  much  excited,  although  no  one  had 
contradicted  him  ;  with  flashing  eyes,  and  continually  gnaw- 
ing at  his  mustache,  he  began  to  speak  with  evident  emo- 
tion, in  a  low  but  distinct  voice,  about  the  infamous  things 
that  were  going  on  around  them,  and  on  the  need  of  imme- 
diate action  ;  he  asserted  that  in  reality  everything  was 
ready  ;  that  the  slightest  delay  would  be  cowardice  ;  that 
recourse  to  force  was  necessary,  like  the  cut  of  a  lancet 
when  an  abscess  is  ripe.  He  repeated  this  comparison  of 
the  lancet  several  times  ;  it  evidently  pleased  him  ;  he  had 
not  invented  it  himself,  he  had  read  it  somewhere.  Hav- 
ing no  more  hope  that  Marianne  would  share  his  feelings, 
it  seemed  to  him  as  if  they  need  no  longer  delay,  and  he 
only  thought  of  hastening  the  moment  of  beginning  the 
work. 

74 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


75 


His  sentences  were  short  and  direct  like  the  blows  of 
an  ax,  going  straight  to  the  point  with  a  sort  of  wrath. 
His  words  fell  slowly  and  monotonously  from  his  pale  lips, 
like  the   hoarse  barking  of  an  old  and  vigilant  watch-dog. 

He  declared  that  he  knew  well  the  peasants  and  work- 
men of  the  neighboring  mills,  and  that  there  were  good 
men  among  them,  for  instance,  Eremei,  in  the  village  of 
Galapliok,  who  would  be  ready  for  anything  at  any  time. 
He  spoke  contirfually  about  this  Eremei  of  Galapliok.  At 
the  end  of  every  sentence  he  struck  the  table,  not  with  his 
palm,  but  with  his  fist,^at  the  same  time  shaking  before  his 
face  the  forefinger  of  his  left  hand. 

These  bony,  hairy  hands,  this  pointing  finger,  this  hol- 
low voice,  these  flashing  eyes,  made  a  deep  impression. 
During  the  drive,  Markelof  had  said  hardly  a  word  to 
Neshdanof  ;  his  wrath  had  accumulated — it  was  now  pour- 
ing over.  Mashurina  and  Ostrodumof  gave  him  approving 
smiles  and  glances,  sometimes  they  uttered  a  brief  excla- 
mation. As  for  Neshdanof,  a  singular  phenomenon  took 
place  in  him.  At  first,  he  tried  to  raise  objections  ;  he  re- 
called the  inconveniences  of  haste,  the  danger  to  speedy, 
ill-considered  action  ;  he  was  especially  astonished  that  the 
decision  had  been  made  in  that  way  without  any  delibera- 
tion, without  taking  account  of  the  circumstances,  without 
even  asking  exactly  what  it  was  that  the  people  desired. 
But  gradually  his  nerves,  which  were  as  tense  as  wires, 
began  to  vibrate  quickly,  and  then  with  desperate  ardor, 
almost  with  tears  of  rage  in  his  eyes,  and  with  a  voice 
broken  by  cries  and  sobs,  he  began  to  speak  to  the  same 
effect  as  Markelof ;  indeed,  he  went  even  further. 

What  had  produced  this  change  ?  It  would  be  hard  to 
say.  Was  it  shame  for  his  late  hesitation,  or  anger  with 
himself  and  the  others,  or  the  need  of  overcoming  some 
gnawing  restlessness,  or  the  wish  of  making  some  manifes- 
tation in  the  presence  of  the  emissaries  whom  he  found 
there  ?  Or  was  it  really  the  influence  of  Markelof's  words 
that  had  fired  his  blood  ? 

They  talked  all  through  the  night ;  Ostrodumof  and 
Mashurina  had  not  stirred  from  their  seats.  Markelof  and 
Neshdanof  had  not  sat  down.    Markelof  remained  standing 


76  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

in  the  same  place,  like  a  sentinel,  and  Neslidanof  was  con- 
tinually walking  uj)  and  down  the  room  with  unequal  steps, 
sometimes  slowly,  then  quickly. 

They  spoke  about  the  steps  they  were  to  take,  about  the 
means  they  should  employ,  of  the  division  of  the  duty  each 
one  should  take  in  charge  ;  they  selected  and  put  in  bun- 
dles circulars  and  pamphlets  ;  they  talked  about  a  certain 
Goloushkin,  a  rich  merchant,  a  very  trustworthy  though 
uneducated  man  ;  of  a  young  propagandist,  Kisliakof,  who 
was  to  be  sure  very  intelligent,  but  very  hasty  and  with 
rather  too  high  an  opinion  of  himself  ;  they  also  mentioned 
Solomine's  name. 

"  Who  manages  a  mill  ?  "  asked  Neshdanof,  who  remem- 
bered hearing  the  name  mentioned  at  Sipiagin's  table. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Markelof  ;  "  you  must  make  his  ac- 
quaintance. We  haven't  sounded  him  yet,  but  he's  a 
serious,  solid  man." 

Eremei'  of  Galapliok  came  up  again.  They  also  spoke 
of  a  Cyril  at  Sipiagin's,  and  of  a  certain  Mendelei'ef,  called 
Dontik  (the  swollen),  but  they  could  not  count  much  on 
him  ;  when  he  was  sober  he  was  a  capital  fellow,  but  he 
was  of  no  use  after  he  had  been  drinking,  and  unfortu- 
nately he  was  pretty  full  all  the  time. 

"  And  among  your  peasants,"  asked  Neshdanof  of  Mark-, 
elof,  "  are  there  any  on  whom  you  can  count  ?  " 

Markelof  answered  that  there  were,  but  he  mentioned 
none  by  name.  He  plunged  into  remarks  about  people  who 
lived  in  the  cities,  and  the  seminarists,  who  would  be  of  great 
service  on  account  of  their  immense  physical  strength  ;  when 
they  began  to  use  their  fists,  then  we  should  see  ! 

Neshdanof  asked  if  they  should  have  the  co-operation  of 
any  of  the  nobles.  Markelof  answered  that  they  would,  of 
five  or  six,  all  young — one  of  them  was  a  German  by  de- 
scent and  a  radical ;  "  unfortunately  it  is  well  known  that 
no  one  can  have  any  confidence  in  Germans.  They  will 
betray  you  and  desert  you  for  a  song.  Besides,  we  must 
wait  for  Kisliakof's  reports." 

"  And  the  army  ?  the  soldiers  ?  "  asked  Neshdanof. 

At  this  Markelof  hesitated  ;  he  stroked  his  long  side- 
whiskers,  and  at  last  declared  there  was  nothing  decisive,  so 


VIRGIN   SOIL. 


77 


far,  from  that  quarter,  and  besides  they  must  wait  for  Kis- 
Hakof's  reports. 

"  But  who  is  this  KisHakof  ?"  cried  Neshdanof  impatiently. 

Markelof  gave  a  meaning  smile. 

"He's  a  man,"  said  he,  "a  man — but,  I  must  confess,  I 
hardly  know  him  personally,  for  I've  only  seen  him  twice  ; 
but  what  letters  he  writes  !  what  letters  !  I'll  show  them 
to  you.  They  are  wonderful !  Such  fire  !  And  how  en- 
ergetic he  is  !  He  has  traveled  all  through  Russia  at  least 
five  or  six  times,  and  from  every  stopping-place  he  has  sent 
a  letter  of  from  ten  to-  twenty  pages." 

Neshdanof  looked  mquiringly  toward  Ostrodumof,  who, 
however,  remained  as  still  as  a  statue.  Mashurina,  whose 
lips  were  drawn  by  a  bitter  smile,  did  not  stir  either. 

Neshdanof  wanted  to  ask  Markelof  about  the  plan  of 
social  reorganization  which  he  was  trying  to  establish  on 
his  estate,  but  he  was  interrupted  by  Ostrodumof. 

"  What's  the  good  of  talking  about  that  now  ?  In  one 
wav  or  another  it  will  all  have  to  be  done  over  again  after- 
ward." 

They  began  to  talk  politics  again.  Neshdanof's  restless- 
ness continued,  and  the  more  he  felt  the  more  furious  and 
pitiless  were  his  words.- 

He  had  drunk  but  a  single  glass  of  beer,  and  yet  at  times 
he  felt  as  if  he  were  drunk.  His  head  swam  ;  his  heart 
beat  with  painful  slowness.  And  when  at  last,  toward  four 
in  the  morning,  the  discussion  having  come  to  an  end,  they 
had  all  separated,  taking  care  not  to  wake  up  a  little  serv- 
ing-boy who  was  asleep  in  the  anteroom,  Neshdanof,  be- 
fore going  to  bed,  stood  motionless  with  his  eyes  fastened 
on  the  floor.  He  kept  hearing  still  the  bitterness  which 
sounded  in  all  of  Markelof's  words  ;  evidently  this  man's 
pride  had  been  wounded  by  Marianne's  refusal ;  he  could 
not  help  suffering  from  it ;  his  hopes  of  happiness  were 
crushed,  and  yet  how  completely  he  forgot  himself,  how 
heartily  he  gave  himself  up  to  what  he  believed  to  be  the 
truth.  "  He's  rather  narrow-minded,"  thought  Neshdanof  ; 
"  but  isn't  it  a  hundred  times  better  to  be  narrow-minded 
like  that  than  to  be — to  be,  for  instance,  what  I  am  at  this 
moment  ? " 


78  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Here  he  had  a  moment  of  revolt  against  this  self-depre- 
ciation. 

"  What  ?  Can't  I  sacrifice  myself  too  ?  AVait  a  little, 
my  friends — and  you,  Pakline,  you  will  see  some  day  that 
a  student  of  esthetics  and  a  scribbler  of  verses — " 

He  tossed  his  hnir  back  angrily,  ground  his  teeth,  and  un- 
dressing hastily,  he  flung  himself  into  his  cold,  damp  bed. 

"  Good-night !  "  said  Mashurina's  voice  from  the  other 
side  of  the  door.     "  I'm  your  neighbor." 

"  Good-night  !  "  answered  Neshdanof. 

"  What  does  she  mean  ? "  he  muttered  to  himself.  Then 
a  wave  of  shame  came  over  him.  "  Come,  come,  I  must 
go  to  sleep." 

But  his  nerves  refused  to  obey  him — and  the  sun  was 
already  high  in  the  heavens  when  he  at  last  fell  into  a 
heavy,  unrefreshing  slumber. 

He  woke  up  late  in  the  morning  with  a  bad  headache. 
He  dressed  himself,  looked  out  of  the  window  of  his  room, 
and  saw  that  Markelof  had  no  establishment,  properly  so 
called.  His  little  house  was  an  isolated  building  not  far 
from  a  grove  of  trees.  To  the  right  a  little  barn,  a  stable, 
a  covered  cellar,  an  isba  with  its  roof  of  thatch  half  fallen 
in  ;  on  the  left,  a  diminutive  pond,  a  little  kitchen  garden, 
a  hemp-field,  and  second  isba  in  as  bad  a  condition  as 
the  other  ;  further  on  an  oven  for  heating  grain,  a  little 
floor  for  threshing  wheat,  and  an  inclosure  for  hay- 
cocks— absolutely  empty — such  were  all  the  magnificences 
that  lay  spread  before  his  eyes.  All  this  poor  and  meager 
disi^lay  did  not  look  as  if  it  had  fallen  into  decay,  but  as  if 
it  had  never  flourished,  like  a  tree  that  has  never  taken  root. 

Neshdanof  went  down  stairs.  Mashurina  was  in  the  din- 
ing-room, seated  before  the  samovar.  She  had  probably 
been  waiting  for  him.  He  learned  from  her  that  Ostro- 
dumof  had  gone  off  on  his  mission,  and  that  he  would  not  be 
back  for  a  fortnight  ;  as  for  the  master  of  the  house,  he  had 
gone  out  to  see  his  workmen.  Since  May  was  drawing  to 
an  end,  and  there  was  not  much  to  do,  Markelof  had  formed 
the  plan  of  cutting  away  at  his  own  expense  his  grove 
of  birches,  and  he  had  gone  to  his  work  very  early. 
Neshdanof  felt  very  much  dejected.     They  had  talked  so 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


79 


much  the  night  before  of  the  unpossibihty  of  delay,  of  the 
absohite  necessity  of  acting  at  once — but  how  were  they  to 
act  ?  and  immediately  ! 

It  would  have  been  useless  to  ask  Mashurina  any  ques- 
tions about  it  ;  she  was  not  conscious  of  the  hesitation  ; 
she  knew  distinctly  what  she  had  to  do — it  was  to  go  to 
K ;  she  did  not  look  further  ahead  than  that. 

Neshdanof  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  her  ;  after  he 
had  drunk  some  tea  he  put  on  his  cap,  and  started  for^the 
birch  grove.  On  his_  way  thither  he  met  some  peasants, 
former  serfs  of  Markdof's,  who  had  just  been  manuring  the 
fields  ;  he  began  to  talk  with  them,  but  without  much  profit. 
They  too  seemed  tired,  but  with  a  physical,  natural  fatigue, 
very  different  from  what  he  felt. 

Their  former  master,  Markelof,  was  not,  they  said,  a 
proud  man,  only  a  little  strange  ;  they  predicted  that  he 
would  ruin  himself,  for  "  he  doesn't  understand  things  ; 
he  wants  to  arrange  everything  in  his  own  way,  instead  of 
doing  as  our  fathers  did.  And  he  knows  too  much,  too  ! 
Do  what  you  please,  you  can't  catch  him.  Oh,  he's  a  fine 
man,  after  all  !  " 

Neshdanof  went  on  his  way,  and  met  Markelof  himself. 

Markelof  was  walking  in  the  middle  of  a  band  of  work- 
men ;  it  was  evident  from  afar  that  he  was  talking  and  try- 
ing to  explain  something,  and  then  he  made  a  gesture,  as 
if  to  say,  "  It's  no  use  !  "  Near  him  walked  his  assistant,  a 
near-sighted  young  man,  who  was  by  no  means  imposing  in 
appearance.  He  kept  repeating  continually,  "  It  shall  be 
as  you  please,"  to  the  great  disgust  of  the  master,  who 
would  have  liked  to  have  him  suggest  something  on  his  own 
account. 

Neshdanof  came  up  to  Markelof,  and  saw  on  his  face  the 
expression  of  the  fatigue  he  himself  felt. 

They  greeted  one  another  ;  Markelof  began  to  talk,  very 
briefly,  it  is  true,  of  the  questions  discussed  the  night  be- 
fore, of  the  imminence  of  a  catastrophe,  but  his  face  wore 
a  no  less  weary  look.  He  was  covered  with  dust  and 
sweat,  twigs  and  moss  had  caught  on  his  clothes,  his  voice 
was  hoarse. 

The  men  with  him  kept  silence.     It  would  be  hard  to 


8o  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

say  whether  they  were  afraid  of  him,  or  whether  they  were 
laughing  at  him  in  their  sleeves. 

Neshdanof  looked  at  Markelof,  and  those  words  of 
Ostrodumof's  kept  sounding  in  his  ears,  "  What's  the  good 
of  talking  of  that  now  ?  At  any  rate,  it  will  all  have  to  be 
done  over  again  afterward." 

One  of  the  workmen  who  had  committed  a  fault  begged 
Markelof  not  to  punish  him  .  Markelof  was  vexed  by  this  ; 
he  shouted  with  anger  and  then  let  him  off. 

"  At  any  rate,  it  will  all  have  to  be  done  over  again 
afterward." 

Neshdanof  asked  Markelof  for  a  carriage  and  horses  to 
go  back  with  ;  Markelof  seemed  very  much  surprised  at 
this  request,  but  answered  that  everything  would  be  ready 
in  a  few  moments.  He  walked  to  the  house  with  Nesh- 
danof, limping  as  he  went,  like  a  man  tired  out. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  asked  Neshdanof. 

"  I'm  worn  out !  "  answered  Markelof  fiercely.  "  No  mat- 
ter how  one  talks  to  these  people,  there's  no  way  of  mak- 
ing them  understand,  and  my  orders  are  never  carried  out. 
They  don't  even  understand  Russian.  They  know  the 
word,  part — but  take  part — what  does  that  mean  ?  take  part. 
They  don't  know.  But  it's  good  Russian.  They  think  I 
want  to  give  them  some  of  the  land." 

Markelof  had  been  trying  to  explain  to  the  peasants 
the  principles  of  association,  and  introduce  the  principle 
among  them  ;  but  the  peasants  had  obstinately  refused. 
After  all  his  explanations,  an  old  peasant  had  said  to 
him  : 

"  The  hole  has  always  been  deep,  and  now  it's  so  deep 
no  one  can  see  the  bottom."  And  all  the  others  had 
sighed  deeply,  so  that  Markelof's  patience  was  exhausted. 
When  he  reached  the  house  he  dismissed  the  men,  ordered 
that  the  carriage  be  got  ready,  and  breakfast  served.  His 
household  consisted  of  a  kazatrJwk,^-  a  cook,  a  coachman, 
and  an  extremely  old  man  with  hairy  ears,  who  wore  a 
long  calico  caftan  ;  he  had  been  his  grandfather's  valct- 
dc-chambre.      This    old   man  was    always  looking    at  his 

*  A  little  "room. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  8 1 

master  with  an  expression  of  supreme  sadness.  He  had  no 
work  to  do,  and  there  was  nothing,  probably,  that  he  could 
have  done  ;  but  he  always  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  steps,  wait- 
ing to  be  called. 

After  breakfast,  which  consisted  of  hard-boiled  eggs, 
sardines,  and  hashed  meat  and  onions  (the  kazatchok 
handed  around  the  mustard  in  an  old  pomade  pot,  and 
the  vinegar  in.  a  cologne  bottle),  Neshdanof  got  into  the 
tarantass,  which  had  brought  him  over  the  evening  before, 
but  instead  of  a  troika  there  were  only  two  horses  ;  the 
third  was  lame,  he  Imd  been  hurt  in  shoeing.  During  this 
meal,  Markelof  sat  very  silent,  eating  little,  and  breathing 
heavily. '  He  spoke  two  or  three  times  very  bitterly  about 
his  estate,  and  again  made  the  gesture  of  helplessness  and 
fatigue. 

"  At  any  rate,  it  will  all  have  to  be  done  over  again 
afterward." 

Mashurina  begged  Neshdanof  to  carry  her  as  far  as  the 
town,  where  she  wanted  to  make  some  purchases. 

"  As  for  getting  back,"  she  said,  "  I  shall  probably  find 
a  place  in  some  telega  ;  besides,  there's  nothing  to  prevent 
my  walking  back." 

As  he  accompanied  them  to  the  steps,  Markelof  told 
Neshdanof  that  he  should  go  to  see  him  soon,  and  that 
then — this  idea  animated  him  once  more — that  then  they 
would  make  the  final  arrangements  ;  he  added,  that  Solo- 
mine  would  come  too  ;  that  he  himself  was  only  waiting 
for  a  word  from  Vassili  Nicholaivitch,  and  that  then  there 
would  be  only  one  thing  for  them  to  do,  to  strike  at  once, 
for  the  patience  of  the  people  was  exhausted. 

The  patience  of  the  people,  of  this  same  people,  who  did 
not  understand  the  words  "  take  part." 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Neshdanof,  "  those  letters  you  were 
going  to  show  me  ?  The  letters  of — what's  his  name  ? 
Kisliakof  ?  " 

"  Some  other  time,  some  other  time,"  answered  Markelof 
quickly.     "  We  shall  see  all  that  at  the  same  moment." 

The  tarantass  started. 

"  Be  ready,"  cried  Markelof  for  the  last  time. 

He  was  standing  on  the  step.s,  and  near  him,  with  his 
6 


82  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

eternal  sadness  on  his  face,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind 
him,  straightening  his  bent  form,  disseminating  an  odor  of 
rye  bread  and  old  calico,  and  not  hearing  a  word  that  was 
said,  was  the  faithful  servant,  the  decrepit  valet  de  c/iam- 
bre  of  his  grandfather. 

During  the  drive  Mashurina  smoked  her  cigarette  in  si- 
lence. As  they  approached  the  town-gate,  she  suddenly 
sighed. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  that  poor  Markelof,"  she  said,  and  her 
face  fell. 

*'  Yes,"  answered  Neshdanof  ;  "  he  takes  a  good  deal  of 
trouble  for  nothing  ;  he  doesn't  seem  very  prosperous." 

"  Oh  !  it's  not  on  that  account." 

"  Why  is  it,  then  ?  " 

"  He  is  unhappy,  he  has  no  luck  !  Where  can  you  find  a 
better  man  than  he  is  ?     And  yet — no,  no  one  wants  him." 

Neshdanof  looked  at  her. 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  ?  " 

"  No,  I've  not  heard  anything.  But  every  one  feels  that 
— by  himself.     Good-by,  Alexis  Dimitrivitch." 

Mashurina  got  out  of  the  tarantass,  and  an  hour  later 
Neshdanof  drove  up  at  Sipiagin's.  He  did  not  feel  well. 
The  sleepless  night,  and  then  all  these  discussions  and  ar- 
guments. 

A  charming  face  was  looking  at  him  from  one  of  the 
windows,  smiling  pleasantly.  It  was  Mme.  Sipiagin  wel- 
coming him  back. 

"  What  eyes  she  has,"  he  thought  to  himself. 


XII. 

AFTER  dinner,  at  which  there  had  been  a  number  of 
people,  Neshdanof  took  advantage  of  the  general  in- 
difference to  his  presence  to  get  out  of  the  way,  and  es- 
caped to  his  own  roorn.  He  felt  the  need  of  being  alone, 
were  it  only  to  set  in  order  the  impressions  which  he 
brought  back  from  his  visit  of  the  night  before. 

During  the  meal  Mme.  Sipiagin  had  several  times  looked 
at  him  attentively,  without  having  occasion  to  speak  to  him. 
As  to  Marianne,  since  her  unexpected  action  which  had  so 
greatly  surprised  him,  she  appeared  to  feel  a  sort  of  awk- 
wardness and  to  be  trying  to  avoid  him. 

Neshdanof  took  up  a  pen.  He  wished  to  write  to  his 
friend  Siline,  but  he  found  nothing  to  say  ;  _  he  could  not 
succeed  in  disentangling  the  multifarious  ideas  and  im- 
pressions with  which  his  brain  was  filled,  so  he  put  off 
writing  till  the  next  day. 

Kallomeitsef  had  been  among  the  guests,  and  he  had 
never  before  shown  off  his  disdainful  arrogance  so  well  ; 
but  the  outrageousness  of  his  discourse  had  little  effect  on 
Neshdanof,  who  hardly  noticed  what  he  said. 

The  young  man  felt  as  if  he  were  in  a  cloud  ;  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  there  were  a  thick  curtain  between  himself  and 
the  rest  of  the  world  ;  and,  strangely  enough,  through  this 
curtain  only  three  faces  were  visible — these,  women's  faces 
— who  all  obstinately  fixed  their  eyes  upon  him.  They 
were  Mme.  Sipiagin,  Mashurina,  and  Marianne.  What  did 
this  mean  ?  And  why  these  three  faces  in  particular  ?  What 
had  they  in  common  ?     And  what  were  they  to  him  ? 

He  went  to  bed  early,  but  could  not  sleep.  There  carne 
to  him  sad  thoughts,  somber  thoughts,  black  thoughts  ;  in 
fact,  thoughts  of  the  inevitable  end  of  all  things,  of  ap- 
proaching death.  They  gradually  became  familiar  to  him  ; 
he  turned  them  over  and  over  in  his  mind,  now  shrinking 


84  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

with  secret  horror  from  the  thought  of  eternal  annihilation, 
now  accepting  it  almost  with  joy. 

At  length  he  felt  a  peculiar  emotion  which  was  well 
known  to  him.  He  rose,  sat  down  before  his  desk,  reflect- 
ed a  moment,  and  then  wrote,  almost  without  erasures,  the 
following  lines  : 

"  Dear  friend,  when  I  am  dying, 
These  are  my  last  wishes  : 
Destroy  at  once 
All  my  useless  papers. 
Surround  me  with  flowers. 
Let  the  sun  into  my  chamber. 
Behind  the  open  door 
Place  musicians. 
Forbid  them  all  sad  music  ! 
Let  the  insolent  waltz, 
As  in  the  hour  of  festal  gayety, 

Give  forth  its  piercing  sounds  under  the  violins'  bows, 
That,  in  drinking  in  with  my  failing  hearing, 
The  dying  sounds  of  the  trembling  chords, 
I  may  die  like  them,  I  may  sink  to  sleep  ; 
That,  not  having  disturbed  with  vain  groans 
The  calm  which  precedes  the  end, 
I  may  go  away  into  another  world. 
Cradled  by  the  light  sound 
Of  light  joys  here  below." 

In  writing  the  word  "friend,"  it  was  of  Siline  that  he 
thought. 

He  read  over  his  verses  half  aloud,  and  was  astonished 
to  see  what  had  fallen  from  his  pen. 

This  skepticism,  this  indifference,  this  light  unbelief, 
how  did  this  agree  with  his  principles,  with  what  he  had 
said  to  Markelof  ? 

He  threw  the  note-book  into  the  drawer  of  his  desk, 
and  went  back  to  bed  ;  but  he  did  not  go  to  sleep  until 
morning,  when  the  ringing  song  of  the  larks  sounded  like 
little  bells  in  the  whitening  sky. 

The  next  day  when  he  had  finished  giving  his  lesson 
and  had  just  sat  down  in  the  billiard-room,  Mme.  Sipia- 
gin  entered,  looked  about  her,  and  approaching  him  with  a 
smile  invited  him  to  step  into  her  boudoir. 

She  wore  a  light  barege  dress,  which  was  very  simple 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


85 


and  very  pretty  ;  the  ruffled  sleeves  only  reached  to  the 
elbow,  a  broad  ribbon  sash  encircled  her  waist,  her  hair 
fell  in  thick  plaits  on  her  neck.  Everything  about  her, 
from  the  softened  luster  of  her  half-shut  eyes,  and  the 
careless  languor  of  her  voice,  to  her  very  step  and  move- 
ments, breathed  forth  a  gracious  welcome  and  a  caress — a 
circumspect  and  encouraging  caress. 

Mme.  Sipiagin  led  the  way  to  her  boudoir.  It  was  a 
convenient  and  agreeable  room,  filled  with  the  scent  of 
flowers  and  delicate  perfumes,  the  fresh  neatness  of 
woman's  dress  and  tfee  constant  presence  of  woman.  She 
made  him  sit  down  in  her  easy-chair,  sat  down  near  him 
herself,  and  began  to  ask  him  about  his  trip,  about  Mar- 
kelof's  manner  of  life,  and  all  in  such  a  subdued,  gentle, 
sweet  way  !  She  showed  such  a  sincere  interest  in  every- 
thing concerning  her  brother,  of  whom  until  now  she  had 
never  spoken  in  Markelof's  presence  !  Some  of  her  words 
allowed  him  to  guess  that  the  feeling  inspired  by  Marianne 
had  not  escaped  her  attention  ;  she  seemed  somewhat  sad- 
dened at  it.  Was  this  because  the  feeling  had  not  been 
shared  by  Marianne,  or  because  her  brother's  choice  had 
fallen  upon  a  young  girl  who  was,  in  reality,  a  stranger  to 
her  ?  This  point  remained  obscure.  But  above  all  things 
she  was  really  trying  to  tame  Neshdanof,  to  inspire  him  with 
confidence,  to  oblige  him  to  drop  his  reserve  ;  Mme.  Sipia- 
gin seemed  even  troubled  that  he  did  not  wholly  under- 
stand her. 

Neshdanof  listened  to  her,  looked  at  her  hands,  her 
shoulders,  threw  from  time  to  time  a  glance  at  her  rosy 
lips,  at  the  curls  of  her  hair,  which  gently  stirred  when  she 
spoke.  Neshdanof's  replies  were  at  first  very  brief  ;  he 
felt  an  oppression  on  his  chest  and  a  lump  in  his  throat. 

Little  by  little  this  feeling  was  exchanged  for  another, 
also  disturbing,  but  not  without  charm  ;  he  never  could 
have  imagined  that  so  distinguished  and  so  pretty  a  woman 
— an  aristocrat — could  feel  any  interest  in  him,  a  poor 
devil  of  a  student  ;  and  not  only  was  Mme.  Sipiagin  inter- 
ested in  him,  but  she  was  even  a  little  coquettish  ! 

"  Why  is  she  thus  ?  "  he  asked  himself,  but  could  find 
no  answer  to  the  question. 


86  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

In  truth  he  did  not  wish  to  find  one. 

Mme.  Sipiagin  spoke  of  Kola  ;  she  even  began  by  tell- 
ing Neshdanof  that  if  she  had  sought  an  interview  with 
him  it  was  with  the  sole  intention  of  ascertaining  his  views 
on  the  education  of  children  in  Russia. 

The  sudden  fashion  in  which  this  wish  had  come  to  her 
might  well  appear  somewhat  strange.  In  fact,  it  was  quite 
another  motive  !  The  truth  is,  the  real  solution  of  the 
enigma  was  that  a  vague  touch  of  passion  inspired  her  with 
a  wish  to  subjugate,  to  bend  at  her  feet  that  haughty- 
head. 

But  we  must  go  back  a  little. 

Valentine  Michailovna  was  the  daughter  of  a  very  or- 
dinary and  obscure  general  who  had  only  obtained  one  star 
and  a  clasp*  at  the  end  of  fifty  years  of  service,  and  of  a  very 
artful  and  crafty  woman  from  Little  Russia,  who  had  the 
simple,  almost  silly  air  so  common  to  her  country  women, 
and  who  made  great  use  of  it. 

Mme.  Sipiagin's  parents  were  not  rich  ;  but  she  was 
nevertheless  educated  at  the  convent  of  Smolna,  where  her 
application  and  her  exemplary  conduct  won  for  her  the 
good  graces  of  her  superiors,  although  she  was  looked  upon 
as  a  republican. 

On  leaving  her  convent  (her  brother  was  by  that  time  in 
possession  of  their  small  domain,  the  general  having  died), 
she  installed  herself  and  her  mother  in  a  suite  of  rooms, 
neatly  furnished,  but  so  cold  that  people's  breath  froze 
while  they  were  speaking. 

Valentine  used  to  say,  smilingly,  that  it  was  like  a  church. 

She  bore  courageously  all  the  sufferings  of  this  narrow 
and  ppyerty-stricken  existence,  thanks  to  her  marvelous 
equability  of  disposition. 

With  her  mother's  aid,  she  succeeded  in  making  and  keep- 
ing quite  a  number  of  acquaintances  ;  every  one,  even  in  the 
highest  circles,  spoke  of  her  as  a  very  well  educated  young 
girl  and  very  comme  il  faut. 

*  A  clasp  worn  on  the  breast  in  which  is  inscribed  in  Roman  fig- 
ures the  number  of  years  a  man  has  served  in  the  army,  counting 
from  twenty-five  upwards. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  87 

Aspirants  to  her  hand  were  not  wanting  ;  she  chose  Sip- 
iagin  among  them  all  and  made  him  in  love  with  her  in  an 
instant — in  addition  to  which  he  felt  from  the  first  that  she 
would  make  the  kind  of  wife  he  ought  to  have.  She  was 
intelligent,  not  bad — rather  good — cold  and  indifferent  at 
heart,  although  she  would  not  allow  other  people  to  remain 
indifferent  toward  her. 

Valentine  possessed  that  particular  sort  of  dangerous 
and  tranquil  grace  which  is  peculiar  to  "  lovable  "  egotists  ; 
that  grace  in  which  there  is  neither  poetry  nor  real  feeling, 
but  which  expresses  kindliness,  sympathy,  and  even  a  sort 
of  tenderness  ;  only  these  charming  egotists  do  not  like  to 
be  contradicted.  T?hey  are  despotic,  and  cannot  bear  in- 
dependence in  others.  Such  women  as  Mme.  Sipiagin  agi- 
tate and  stir  up  naive  and  passionate  people  ;  while  for 
their  own  part  they  prefer  a  calm  and  regular  life  to  all 
else  ;  virtue  is  easy  to  them,  nothing  moves  them  ;  but  their 
constant  desire  to  rule,  to  attract,  and  to  please,  gives  them 
mobility  and  brilliancy  ;  they  have  a  strong  will  in  which 
in  great  measure  their  power  consists.  When  one  of  these 
serene  and  impassible  creatures  seems  suddenly  to  wake 
up  and  become  electric  with  involuntary  and  hidden  lan- 
guor, how  is  it  possible  to  resist  ?  One  says  to  oneself 
that  the  ice  is  going  to  melt  ;  but  the  shining  ice  likes  too 
well  to  play  with  and  reflect  back  the  sunbeams  ;  it  will 
never  melt,  and  never  be  broken. 

Mme.  Sipiagin  could  well  risk  a  little  coquetry  ;  she 
knew  well  that  there  was  and  could  be  no  danger  for  her. 
But  to  darken  or  brighten  the  eyes  of  another  ;  to  call 
upon  another's  cheek  the  flush  of  desire  or  fear  ;  to  force 
another's  voice  to  tremble  or  break  ;  to  trouble  the  soul  of 
another  ;  oh  !  how  she  enjoyed  it  with  all  her  heart  !  And 
at  night  when  she  stretched  herself  upon  her  white  bed  to 
taste  peaceful  slumbers,  what  a  pleasure  there  was  in  recall- 
ing words  full  of  emotion,  suppliant  looks,  anxious  sighs  ! 
When  she  deigned  to  receive  the  legitimate  caresses 
of  that  polished  husband  of  hers,  what  a  satisfied  smile 
played  around  her  lips  as  she  meditated  upon  her  own  in- 
accessibihty  to  emotion.  These  thoughts  were  so  agree- 
able to  her  that  sometimes  she  felt  really  softened  by  them, 


88  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

and  ready  to  perform  some  good  action,  to  come  to  the  aid 
of  another. 

Once  a  secretary  of  legation,  who  was  madly  in  love 
with  her,  having  cut  his  throat,  she  founded  a  little  hospi- 
tal in  his  honor.  She  had  prayed  sincerely  for  this  young 
man,  although  her  religious  sense  had  always  been  weak 
from  childhood  upward. 

Well,  she  talked  with  Neshdanof,  trying  by  all  the  means 
at  her  command  to  bring  him  to  her  feet ;  she  made  herself 
accessible,  she  unvailed  herself,  figuratively  speaking,  before 
him,  and  she  watched  with  an  amiable  curiosity,  with  a 
quasi-maternal  tenderness,  how  this  pretty  youth,  this  shy 
and  interesting  radical  came  toward  her  with  slow  and 
awkward  steps.  A  day,  an  hour,  a  minute,  and  all  this  will 
have  disappeared  without  leaving  any  trace  ;  but  in  the 
meantime,  she  felt  pleasure  mixed  with  a  desire  to  laugh,  a 
little  alarm,  and  even  a  slight  degree  of  melancholy.  For- 
getting Neshdanof's  birth,  and  knowing  how  people  who 
are  alone  in  the  world  are  pleased  by  questions  of  the 
sort,  she  asked  him  about  his  childhood,  about  his  fam- 
ily. But  she  soon  perceived,  by  the  brief  and  embar- 
rassed answers  of  the  young  man,  that  she  had  taken  a 
wrong  tack,  and  laid  herself  out  to  make  up  for  her  mis- 
take, just  as  a  full-blooming  rose  in  the  penetrating 
warmth  of  the  summer  noon  spreads  even  wider  her  per- 
fumed petals,  which  the  strengthening  freshness  of  the 
night  shall  draw  together  and  fold  up  again. 

She  did  not  wholly  succeed,  however,  in  repairing  her 
blunder.  Touched  to  the  quick,  Neshdanof  could  not 
feel  as  easy  as  before.  The  bitterness  which  he  always 
had  within  him,  which  he  always  felt  in  the  depths  of  his 
heart,  came  to  the  surface  ;  his  democratic  rancor  and  sus- 
picion were  awakened. 

"  Did  I  come  here  for  this  ?  "  thought  he. 

He  remembered  Pakline's  mocking  remarks — and  taking 
advantage  of  the  first  pause  in  the  conversation,  he  rose, 
bowed,  and  left  the  room  "  betement"  as  he  said  to  him- 
self. 

His  embarrassment  did  not  escape  Mnie.  Sipiagin's  no- 
tice.    But  to  judge  by  the  smile  with  which  she  accom- 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  89 

panied  his  departure,  she  interpreted  the  embarrassment  to 
her  own  advantage. 

On  entering  the  billiard-room,  Neshdanof  met  Marianne. 
Her  arms  were  closely  folded,  and  she  was  standing  with 
her  back  to  the  window  not  far  from  the  door  of  the  bou- 
doir. Her  face  was  in  a  heavy  shadow,  but  her  fearless 
eyes  looked  at  the  young  man  with  such  a  persistent  in- 
terrogation, her  closed  lips  expressed  such  disdain,  such 
imperious  pity,  that  he  stopped  irresolutely. 

"  You  have  something  to  say  to  me  ?  "  asked  he. 

^larianne  waited  a  Jnoment  before  answering  : 

"  No — well,  yes  ;  but  not  now." 

"  When  ?  " 

"  We  will  see.  Perhaps  to-morrow,  perhaps  never.  After 
all  I  don't  feel  quite  sure  what  you  are." 

"  It  seemed  to  me  nevertheless,"  began  Neshdanof, 
"  that  between  us — " 

"  And  as  for  you,  you  do  not  know  me  at  all,"  interrupted 
Marianne.  "  But  wait,  to-morrow  perhaps.  Just  now  I 
must  go  to  my  mistress.     To-morrow." 

Neshdanof  started  to  go,  then  suddenly  came  back._ 

"  By  the  way,  Marianne  Vikentievna,  I  have  long  wished 
to  ask  permission  to  go  to  the  school  with  you  some  time, 
to  see  what  you  do  there,  before  it  is  closed." 

"  Very  well,  but  it  was  not  of  the  school  I  meant  to 
speak  to  you." 

"  Of  what  then  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  to-morrow,"  repeated  Marianne. 

But  she  did  not  wait  till  the  next  day.  The  conversa- 
tion she  wished  to  have  with  Neshdanof  took  place  that 
very  evening,  in  one  of  the  linden  walks  which  led  off  not 
far  from  the  terrace. 


XIII. 

SHE  came  up  to  him. 
"Mr.  Neshdanof,"  she  began  hurriedly,  "  you  are,  I 
beHeve,  completely  fascinated  by  Mme.  Sipiagin." 

She  turned  without  awaiting  his  answer,  and  walked 
down  the  path  ;  Neshdanof  joined  her  and  walked  along 
by  her  side. 

"  What  makes  you  think  that  ?  "  he  asked  after  a  m.o- 
ment's  delay. 

"  Can  I  be  mistaken  ?  In  that  case  she  must  have  taken 
the  wrong  means  for  once.  I  can  just  see  how  she  has 
maneuvered,  how  she  has  reached  out  her  little  tentacles  !  " 

Neshdanof,  without  answering  a  word,  looked  covertly  at 
his  strange  companion. 

"  Listen,"  she  continued.  "  I  will  speak  frankly  to  you. 
I  don't  like  Mme.  Sipiagin  ;  for  that  matter  you  have  al- 
ready perceived  that  fact.  Possibly  I  seem  to  you  unjust, 
but  wait  before  judging — " 

Her  voice  failed.  She  blushed  and  was  embarrassed. 
With  her,  embarrassment  always  took  the  form  of  anger. 

"  You  are  doubtless  wondering  why  this  young  lady, 
whom  you  scarcely  know,  says  all  this  to  you.  You  prob- 
ably thought  the  same  thing  when  I  told  you  that  about 
Mr.  Markelof." 

She  suddenly  stooped,  picked  a  little  mushroom,  broke 
it  in  two,  and  threw  it  to  a  distance. 

"  You  are  mistaken.  Miss  Marianne,"  said  Neshdanof. 
"  I  thought,  on  the  contrary,  that  I  inspired  you  with  con- 
fidence, and  that  greatly  pleased  me." 

Marianne  glanced  rapidly  toward  him.  Until  then  she 
had  kept  her  head  constantly  turned  away  from  him. 

"  It  is  not  so  much  that  you  have  inspired  me  with  con- 
fidence, but  your  position  in  life  so  nearly  resembles  my 

DO 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


91 


own.     We  are  equally  unfortunate,  that  is  the  link  between 

us." 

"  You  are  unhappy  ?  "  asked  Neshdanof. 

"  And  you,  are  not  you  unhappy  too  ?  "  replied  Marianne. 

He  kept  silent. 

"  Do  you  know  my  history  ? "  said  she  impetuously. 
"  My  father's  history,  his  exile  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  then,  let  me  tell  you  that  he  was  tried  and  found 
guilty,  that  he  lost  his  rank,  and  everything,  and  that 
he  was  exiled  to  Siberia.  In  short,  he  died.  My  mother 
also  died.  My  uncle,  Mr.  Sipiagin,  my  mother's  brother, 
took  me  in.  I  live  $t  his  expense  ;  he  is  my  benefactor. 
Valentine  MichaTlovna  is  my  benefactress,  and  I  reward 
them  with  the  blackest  ingratitude,  probably  because  I  have 
a  hard  heart,  and  because  the  bread  of  others  is  bitter,  and 
I  do  not  know  how  to  bear  the  humiliation  of  a  false  indul- 
gence, and  I  cannot  endure  being  patronized,  and  do  not 
know  how  to  escape  it,  and  because,  when  I  am  perpet- 
ually pricked  with  a  pin,  if  I  do  not  cry  out,  it  is  only 
because  I  am  proud." 

Speaking  in  this  way,  in  disconnected  sentences,  Ma- 
rianne walked  quicker  and  quicker. 

Suddenly  she  stopped. 

"  Do  you  know  that  my  aunt,  merely  to  get  rid  of  me, 
wishes  me  to  marry  that  horrid  Kallome'itsef  ?  She  knows 
my  convictions,  moreover.  In  her  eyes  I  am  a  nihilist:, 
and  in  his  !  Naturally  I  don't  please  him,  as  I'm  not  beau- 
tiful !  but  they  can  sell  me,  and  this  will  be  one  more  obli- 
gation !  " 

"  Then,  why,"  began  Neshdanof,  "have  you  not —  " 

He  stopped. 

Marianne  glanced  at  him. 

"  Why  did  I  not  accept  Mr.  Markelof,  you  were  going  to 
say,  weren't  you  ?  Yes,  but  how  can  I  ?  He  is  a  worthy 
man.     But  it  is  not  my  fault,  I  cannot  love  him." 

Marianne  again  hastened  her  steps,  as  if  to  spare  her 
companion  the  necessity  of  replying  to  this  unexpected 
avowal. 

They  had  reached  the  end  of  the  path. 


92  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Marianne  quickly  turned  into  a  narrow  path  which  led 
through  a  thick  firwood,  and  walked  down  it.  Neshdanof 
followed  her.  He  felt  a  double  perplexity  ;  it  seemed  very 
extraordinary  to  him  that  this  gloomy  young  girl  spoke  to 
him  so  frankly,  and  what  still  further  astonished  him  was 
that  this  frankness  did  not  surprise  him,  but  seemed  to  him 
very  natural. 

Suddenly  Marianne  turned  and  stopped  in  the  middle  of 
the  path,  so  that  her  face  was  close  to  Neshdanof's.  She 
fixed  her  eyes  on  those  of  the  young  man. 

"Alexis  Dimitritch,"  said  she,  "don't  think  that  my  aunt- 
is  wicked.  No  ;  she  is  only  a  living  lie  ;  she  is  an  actress, 
she  poses  ;  she  wishes  to  be  adored  by  every  one,  for  her 
beauty,  and  to  be  at  the  same  time  venerated  as  if  she  were 
a  saint  !  She  invents  a  good  phrase — very  sincere — com- 
ing from  her  heart  even  ;  says  it  to  one  person,  then  re- 
peats it  to  a  second,  a  third,  and  always  as  if  it  had  that 
moment  occurred  to  her,  and  then  she  uses  her  magnificent 
eyes  to  some  purpose  !  She  knows  very  well  that  she  re- 
sembles the  Dresden  Madonna,  and  she  does  not  absolutely 
love  any  one.  She  pretends  to  be  always  occupied  with 
Kola,  and  what  she  really  does  for  him  is  to  talk  about  him 
with  bright  people.  She  does  not  wish  any  one  ill,  she  is 
all  kindness  !  But  if  you  were  torn  limb  from  limb  in  her 
presence  it  would  be  all  the  same  to  her  !  She  would  not 
stir  a  finger  to  serve  you,  and  if  your  harm  is  her  good — 
then,  oh  !   then  !  " 

Marianne  was  silent,  stifled  with  suppressed  wrath  ;  she 
had  resolved  to  let  it  have  free  course,  she  could  not  con- 
tain herself,  and  her  words  rushed  forth  in  spite  of  herself. 
Marianne  belonged  to  a  very  unhappy  class  of  persons  often 
to  be  met  with  in  the  Russia  of  the  present  day.  Justice 
satisfies  them  without  making  them  happy  ;  and  injustice, 
to  which  they  are  terribly  susceptible,  disturbs  them  to  the 
bottom  of  their  souls.  While  she  spoke,Neshdanof  looked  at 
her  attentively  ;  her  flushed  face,  with  her  short  hair  slightly 
disordered,  and  the  tremulousness  of  her  finely  curved  lips, 
looked  menacing,  portentous,  and  handsome,  superbly 
handsome.  A  ray  of  sun  striking  through  the  network  of 
closely  intertwined  branches,    struck  upon  her  forehead 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  93 

with  a  bright  mark,  and  this  tongue  of  fire  accorded  with 
the  excited  expression  of  her  whole  face,  with  her  brilHant 
eyes  which  were  fixed  and  opened  wide,  and  with  the  vibra- 
tion of  her  voice. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Neshdanof,  at  length,  '*  why  did  you 
call  me  unfortunate  ?     Do  you  know  my  past  ?  " 

Marianne  nodded,  "  Yes  !  " 

"  But — what  do  you  know  ?  They  have  told  you  about 
me  ?  " 

"  I  know — your  birth." 

"  You  knoV — who  told  you  ? " 

"  Who  but  she  !  She  as  usual !  This  Mme.  Sipiagin  with 
whom  you  are  so  delighted  !  She  did  not  fail  to  say  before 
me,  in  covert  phrases,  but  very  clearly,  not  compassionately, 
yet  witli  the  air  of  a  liberal  person  who  is  above  all  preju- 
dice, what  were  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  this  new 
tutor's  life.  Don't  be  surprised,  I  beg  you.  Mme.  Sipiagin 
tells  every  new-comer,  with  compassion  this  time,  what  are 
her  niece's  peculiar  circumstances,  how  her  father  was 
exiled  to  Siberia  for  peculation.  She  thinks  she  is  a  great 
lady,  but  she  is  only  a  gossip  and  an  actress,  your  Raphael 
Madonna." 

"  Pardon  me  !  why  my  *  Madonna  '  ?  " 

Marianne  turned  away,  and  began  to  walk  along  the 
path  again. 

"  You  had  such  a  long  talk  together  !  "  she  said  at 
length,  with  a  hollow  voice. 

"  I  hardly  said  a  word,"  replied  Neshdanof  ;  "  it  was  she 
who  did  all  the  talking." 

Marianne  continued  to  walk  on,  keeping  silent.  But  at 
a  place  where  the  path  turned  aside,  fir  trees  seemed  to 
open  out  before  them,  a  little  clearing  appeared,  in  the  cen- 
ter of  which  rose  a  weeping  willow,  whose  old  cracked 
trunk  was  surrounded  by  a  circular  bench. 

Marianne  sat  down  on  this  bench,  Neshdanof  took  his 
place  by  her  side.  The  long,  drooping  branches,  covered 
with  young  green  leaves,  slowly  swayed  above  their  heads. 
Around  them  in  the  short  grass  grew  white  lilies-of-the- 
valley,  and  in  all  the  clearing  the  short  grass  exhaled  a  per- 
fume which  gave  a  pleasant  sensation  to  their  lungs,  already 
somewhat  oppressed  by  the  resinous  smell  of  the  firs. 


94 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


"  You  wished  to  see  our  school  ? "  said  Marianne  ;  "  so 
be  it ;  come.  Only  I  do  not  think  you  will  be  much  edi- 
fied by  it.  You  know,  the  deacon  has  charge  of  the  school. 
A  worthy  man,  by  the  way  ;  but  you  can't  imagine  how 
queer  his  teaching  is  !  Among  the  scholars  there  is  one 
named  Gaross,  an  orphan,  nine  years  old  ;  he  is  the  best 
scholar  in  the  school." 

One  would  have  said  that  Marianne,  in  suddenly  chang- 
ing the  subject  of  their  conversation,  was  herself  transformed 
into  another  creature  ;  she  grew  pale  and  calm,  and  her  face 
expressed  a  sort  of  confusion  as  if  she  was  ashamed  of  what 
she  had  said.  She  had  a  visible  desire  to  lead  Neshdanof 
off  on  to  any  question  whatever — about  the  school  or  the 
peasants — anything — so  that  she  led  him  away  from  their 
former  subject  of  discourse. 

But,  just  at  this  moment,  no  question  could  interest  him. 

"Marianne  Vikentievna,"  said  he,  "frankly,  I  little  ex- 
pected all  that — has  taken  place  between  us."  (At  the 
words  "  taken  place,"  Marianne  made  a  slight  movement.) 
"  It  seems  to  me  we  have  suddenly  come  nearer  to  each 
other.  But  that  had  to  come.  For  some  time  we  have 
been  walking  toward  each  other,  without  yet  exchanging 
bows.  It  is  for  that  reason  that  I  speak  to  you  so  openly. 
Your  sojourn  in  this  house  is  hard  and  painful  to  you  ; 
but  your  uncle,  although  a  narrow-minded  man,  seems  to 
me  a  man  of  good  feeling,  as  far  as  I  can  judge  ;  doesn't 
your  uncle  understand  your  position  ?  Doesn't  he  take 
your  part  ? " 

"  My  uncle  ?  In  the  first  place,  he's  not  a  man  ;  he's  a 
public  functionary,  senator,  minister — I  don't  know  what ! 
Then,  besides — I  don't  wish  to  complain  foolishly  and  ca- 
lumniate people  ;  life  here  is  neither  hard  nor  painful  to 
me.  I  am  not  oppressed  ;  my  aunt's  little  pin-pricks  are 
really  nothing  in  my  eyes — I'm  perfectly  free." 

Neshdanof  looked  at  Marianne  with  stupefaction. 

"  In  that  case — all  that  you  have  told  me — " 

"  Laugh  at  me  as  much  as  you  please,"  interrupted  she  ; 
"  but,  if  I'm  unhappy,  it's  not  because  of  my  own  misfor- 
tunes. It  seems  to  me  at  moments,  that  I  suffer  for  all  the 
oppressed — the  disinherited  people,  in  Russia  ;  or,  rather, 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


95 


I  don't  suffer,  I  get  indignant,  for  them.  I  revolt ;  I  am 
ready  to  give  my  life  for  them.  I'm  unhappy  at  being  a 
young  woman,  a  dependant,  and  able  to  do  nothing,  noth- 
ing— and  capable  of  nothing.  When  my  father  was  in  Si- 
beria, and  I  lived  at  Moscow  with  my  mother,  I  wanted  to 
go  and  find  him  !  Not  that  I  had  any  great  affection  or 
respect  for  him,  but  I  had  a  great  desire  to  go  and  see 
with  my  own  eyes,  feel  in  my  own  person,  how  exiled  and 
persecuted  people  live — and  how  irritated  I  was  with  my- 
self and  with  all  calm,  plump,  self-satisfied  people  !  And 
then,  when  my  father  returned  broken-down,  worn-out, 
when  we  had  to  humiliate  ourselves,  to  solicit  help,  to 
seek  the  good  graces  of  those  in  power ;  ah  !  how  painful 
and  miserable  it  all  was  !  How  right  he  was  to  die  !  And 
my  mother,  too!  As  for  me,  I  remained  in  this  world  ! 
To  do  what  ?  I  feel  that  I  have  a  bad  disposition  ;  that 
I  am  ungrateful ;  that  I  am  of  no  use  to  any  one  !  " 

Marianne  turned  aside,  and  her  hand  slipped  down  on  to 
the  bench  beside  her.  Neshdanof  was  filled  with  pity  for 
her  ;  he  wished  to  take  this  neglected  hand,  but  Marianne 
quickly  withdrew  it  ;  not  because  Neshdanof's  movement 
seemed  to  her  impertinent,  but  because  she  did  not  wish  to 
seem  to  beg  for  sympathy  from  any  one. 

A  woman's  dress  was  seen  in  the  distance  through  the 
fir  woods. 

Marianne  straightened  herself. 

"  See  !  "  she  said,  "  your  madame  has  sent  her  spy  ;  that 
chambermaid  was  charged  to  watch  me  and  tell  her  where 
I  am,  and  with  whom  !  My  aunt  probably  thought  I  was 
with  you,  and  she  doesn't  think  that  proper — particularly 
after  the  sentimental  scene  she  gave  you  the  benefit  of. 
Besides,  it's  really  time  to  go  back  to  the  house  ;  so  come." 

Marianne  arose  ;  Neshdanof  did  the  same.  She  looked 
at  him  over  her  shoulder,  and  suddenly  an  almost  childlike 
expression  came  over  her  face,  a  look  gracious  and  some- 
what embarrassed. 

*'  You're  not  angry  with  me,  are  you  ?  You  Avill  not 
think  that  I  too  have  treated  you  to  a  scene  ?  No,  you 
won't  think  that,"  continued  she  before  Neshdanof  had 
time  to  reply.     "  Are  you  not  unhappy  likewise  ?     Isn't 


96  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

your  temper  bad  like  mine  ?     To-morrow  we  will  visit  the 
school  together  like  good  friends,  as  we  are  now." 

When  Marianne  and  Neshdanof  reached  the  house, 
Mme.  Sipiagin  looked  at  them  through  her  eyeglass,  and 
shook  her  head  with  the  kindly  little  smile  habitual  to  her  ; 
then,  going  through  the  long  window  which  stood  open  into 
the  drawing-room,  where  Mr.  Sipiagin  was  playing  "  Pref- 
erence "  with  the  toothless  neighbor,  she  said,  weighing 
every  syllable  : 

"  How  damp  it  is  outside  !  It  is  very  unhealthy." 
Marianne  and  Neshdanof  exchanged  glances.  Sipiagin, 
who  had  just  beaten  his  adversary,  threw  toward  his  wife  a 
side-glance — a  real  ministerial  look  ;  then  this  same  sleepily 
cold  look  he  cast  upon  the  young  couple  who  had  just  come 
in  from  the  already  dark  garden. 


XIV. 

A  FORTNIGHT  had  passed  by.  Everything  was  go- 
ing on  in  its  usual  routine.  Sipiagin  arranged  each 
day's  work — hke  a  minister,  or  at  least  like  the  director  of 
a  department.  He*- always  kept  up  his  air  of  affable  but 
somewhat  bored  superiority.  Kola  took  his  lessons.  Anna 
Zakharovna  seemed  possessed  by  a  blind  rage  which  she 
dared  not  show.  Visitors  came,  talked,  and  played  cards 
without  seeming  to  get  tired  of  it.  Valentine  Michailovna 
continued  to  amuse  herself  with  Neshdanof,  although  a 
touch  of  gentle  irony  was  mingled  with  her  amiability. 

Neshdanof  had  become  quite  intimate  with  Marianne, 
and  at  last,  to  his  great  surprise,  he  made  out  that  she  had 
quite  an  even  temper,  and  that  one  might  talk  to  her  about 
all  sorts  of  things  without  meeting  too  sharp  contradictions. 

He  went  twice  to  visit  the  school  with  her,  but  the  first 
visit  showed  him  it  was  time  wasted.  The  deacon  was  abso- 
lutely master  in  the  school  by  Sipiagin's  express  wish. 

This  deacon  taught  reading  and  writing — tolerably  well 
on  the  whole,  although  he  employed  an  almost  obsolete 
method — but  at  the  examinations  he  asked  very  curious 
questions.     Thus,  one  day,  he  had  asked  Gaross  : 

"  How  do  you  explain  the  passage  of  the  Bible  :  The 
dark  waters  in  the  clouds  ?  " 

To  which  Gaross,  as  he  had  been  taught  by  the  deacon 
himself,  was  to  say,  "  The  passage  cannot  be  explained." 

Moreover,  the  school  was  about  to  be  closed — on  account 
of  the  midsummer  work — until  autumn. 

Neshdanof,  remembering  Pakline's  advice,  and  that  of 
his  other  friends,  tried  to  scrape  acquaintance  with  the 
peasants  ;  but  he  soon  saw  that  he  was  contenting  himself 
with  studying  them  from  the  point  of  view  of  an  observer, 
and  that  he  was  not  preaching  the  new  doctrine  to  them. 

7  97 


98  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

He  was  only  accustomed  to  the  city,  having  passed  the 
greater  part  of  his  Hfe  at  Petersburg,  so  that  between  him 
and  the  peasants  there  was  an  abyss  which,  with  all  his  ef- 
forts, he  could  not  cross. 

He  had  had  occasion  to  exchange  a  few  words  with  the 
drunkard  Cyril,  and  even  with  Mendelei"  Doutik  ;  but, 
singularly  enough,  he  felt  shy  before  them,  and  he  had 
never  been  al)le  to  draw  from  them  anything  more  than 
two  or  three  violent  but  vague  oaths. 

Another  moujik,  named  Fitui'ef,  simply  filled  him  with 
amazement.  This  peasant  had  an  extraordinarily  energetic 
face,  a  real  brigand's  head. 

"  There,  this  is  the  sort  of  fellow  we  want,"  thought 
Neshdanof.  Now  it  happened  that  this  Fitui'ef  was  a  man 
without  hearth  or  roof,  from  whom  the  commune  had 
taken  back  his  land,  because  he  could  not  work. 

"  I  can't,"  he  sobbed,  with  his  hollow,  querulous  voice, 
and  with  deep  sighs.  "  I  can't  work.  Kill  me  if  you  want 
to  !     I  would  go  hang  myself  rather  than  work." 

He  ended  by  turning  beggar — by  asking  for  one  little 
kopek  to  buy  a  little  crust  of  bread.  And  he  had  this 
bloodthirsty  face  withal,  worthy  of  Rinaldo  Rinaldini. 

Neshdanof  had  no  better  luck  with  the  mill-hands; 
some  were  terribly  indifferent,  others  terribly  reserved.  He 
could  do  absolutely  nothing  with  them.  He  thereupon 
wrote  his  friend  Siline  a  long  letter,  in  which  he  complained 
of  his  incompetence,  ascribing  it  to  his  faulty  education 
and  his  wretched  esthetic  tendencies. 

He  then  imagined  that  his  true  occupation  in  the  work 
should  consist,  not  in  speaking,  but  in  writing.  But  that 
was  no  more  successful.  Everything  which  he  put  down 
on  paper  seemed  artificial  and  theatrical,  false  in  expres- 
sion and  language  ;  and  twice,  to  his  horror,  he  strayed 
into  writing  verse  or  into  purely  personal  skeptical  rev- 
eries. 

He  decided — and  it  was  a  great  mark  of  confidence  and 
intimacy — to  speak  to  Marianne  about  his  ill  success  ;  and 
again,  to  his  great  surprise,  he  found  in  her  sympathy,  not 
for  his  writings,  that  of  course,  but  for  the  moral  malady 
from  which  he  was  suffering,  and  which  was  not  wholly 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


99 


unknown  to  her.  Marianne,  like  himself,  was  an  avowed 
enemy  of  esthetics,  and  yet,  by  a  contradiction  which  she 
did  not  dare  analyze,  it  was  just  this  lack  of  esthetic  tastes 
in  Markelof  which  had  kept  her  from  loving  him.  But 
only  that  is  strong  within  us  which  remains  even  for  our- 
selves a  but  half-suspected  secret. 

The  days  passed  thus,  slowly,  unevenly,  but  without 
being  wearisome. 

Neshdanof  was  in  a  singular  state  of  mind.  He  was 
dissatisfied  with  himself,  with  what  he  did,  or,  rather,  what 
he  did  not  do  ;  his  words  almost  always  betrayed  the  bit- 
terness of  his  self-reproaches,  and  yet,  in  the  bottom  of  his 
heart,  in  its  most  "Secret  corners,  he  felt  a  certain  comfort, 
something  that  seemed  really  consoling.  Whence  could  it 
come  ?  From  the  calm  of  the  country  ?  From  the  air, 
the  summer,  the  good  cheer,  the  agreeable  life  ?  Was  it 
perhaps  because  for  the  first  time  of  his  life  he  was  enjoy  ■ 
ing  the  pleasure  one  gets  from  the  sympathy  of  a  woman's 
soul  ?  Whatever  it  was,  in  spite  of  the  perfectly  sincere 
complaints  he  wrote  to  Siline,  he  did  not  wish  to  change. 

Besides,  Neshdanof's  mind  was  about  to  receive  a  most 
violent  and  unexpected  shock  in  a  single  day. 

One  fine  morning  he  received  a  letter  from  the  myste- 
rious Vassili  Nicolaivitch,  in  which  the  order  was  given 
that  he  and  Markelof,  while  waiting  for  further  instruc- 
tions, should  immediately  make  the  acquaintance  of  Solo- 
mine,  and  come  to  an  understanding  with  him,  as  well  as 
with  a  certain  merchant,  an  Old  Believer,  living  in  S . 

This  letter  pained  Neshdanof  very  much.  He  read 
between  the  lines  a  direct  reproach  to  his  inactivity.  The 
bitterness  which  had  only  appeared  in  his  words  now  filled 
his  whole  being. 

At  dinner  time  Kallomeitsef  came  in  great  wrath  and 
excitement. 

"  Only  think,"  he  cried,  almost  breaking  down,  "  what 
a  horrible  thing  Fve  just  read  in  the  paper  !  My  friend, 
my  good  Michael,  Prince  of  Servia,  has  been  assassinated 
by  some  wretches  at  Belgrade.  Where  will  these  Jaco- 
bins, these  revolutionists  stop,  if  they  are  not  held  by  a 
hand  of  iron  ?  " 


lOO  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Sipiagiii  "  begged  leave  to  remark  "  that  this  abominable 
murder  was  not  committed  by  Jacobins,  "  whose  exist- 
ence in  Belgrade  was  exceedingly  problematical ;  "  but  by 
people  of  the  party  of  Kara-Gheorgi,  who  were  enemies  of 
the  Obrenovitch. 

But  Kallomeitsef  would  not  listen  to  a  word  ;  he  went  on 
"in  the  same  lachrymose  voice  to  say  what  a  friend  the 
prince  had  been  to  him,  and  what  a  magnificent  gun  he  had 
given  him.  As  he  went  on,  his  own  words  excited  him,  and 
from  foreign  Jacobins  he  turned  to  the  Nihilists  and  Social- 
ists at  home,  against  whom  he  launched  his  thunderbolts. 
He  took  a  bit  of  bread  in  his  two  hands,  and  breaking  it 
over  his  soup,  as  is  done  by  the  habitues  of  the  Cafe  Riche, 
he  expressed  a  desire  to  break,  crush,  and  grind  to  powder 
those  who  were  in  opposition  "  to  anything  or  anybody." 
That  was  his  own  expression. 

"  Now  is  the  time,"  he  cried,  carrying  his  s]5oon  to  his 
mouth.  "  Now  is  the  time,"  he  repeated,  holding  his 
glass  to  the  waiter  who  was  pouring  out  the  sherry. 

He  spoke  with  veneration  of  the  prominent  writers  of 
Moscow,  and  "  Ladislas,  our  dear,  good  Ladislas,"  was  con- 
tinually on  his  lips. 

During  his  whole  speech  he  intentionally  kept  his  eyes 
fastened  on  Neshdanof,  as  if  to  say,  "  There,  that's  for  you  ! 
and  you  can  take  that  slap  !  and  that  !  and  that  !  " 

The  young  student  finally  lost  his  temper,  and  in  a  rather 
hoarse,  it  is  true,  and  somewhat  tremulous  voice  (not  trem- 
ulous from  fear,  however),  he  began  to  defend  the  hopes, 
the  principles,  and  the  aims  of  the  younger  generation. 

Kallomeitsef  began  at  once  to  whine  (when  he  was  angry 
he  always  spoke  in  a  falsetto  voice),  and  he  became  rude. 
1  Sipiagin  majestically  defended  the  young  man  ;  Valen- 
tine Michailovna  followed  her  husband's  example  ;  Anna 
Zakharovna  tried  to  distract  Kola's  attention,  and  cast  angry 
glances  on  all  sides  from  underneath  the  floating  ribbons  of 
her  cap  ;  Marianne  did  not  stir,  but  sat  there  as  if  she  were 
turned  to  stone. 

But  suddenly,  when  he  heard  Ladislas's  name  mentioned 
for  the  twentieth  time,  Neshdanof  flew  into  a  passion,  and 
striking  the  table  with  the  palm  of  his  hand,  he  said  : 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  lOi 

"  He's  an  excellent  authority  !  As  if  we  didn't  know  all 
about  this  Mr.  Ladislas.     A  hired  assassin,  nothing  else  !  " 

"  Eh,  what,  what  ?  "  shouted  Kallomeitsef,  stammering 
with  rage.  "  You  dare  talk  in  that  way  about  a  man  who  is 
very  highly  thought  of  by  such  persons  as  Count  Blasen- 
krampf  and  Prince  Kovrijkine  ?  " 

Neshdanof  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  A  capital  recommendation  ;  Prince  Kovrijkine,  that 
enthusiastic  flunkey — " 

"  Ladislas  i?my  friend,"  cried  Kallomei'tsef.  "  He's  my 
comrade,  and  I —  " 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  you,"  interrupted  Neshdanof. 
"  That  means  that  you  share  his  views  of  things,  and  my 
words  can  apply  to  you  as  well  as  to  him." 

Kallomei'tsef  turned  very  pale. 

"  Why  ?   what  ?   you  dare  ?     You  deserve  instantly —  " 

"  What  is  it,  sir,  that  I  deserve  instantly  ?  "  interrupted 
Neshdanof  again,  with  ironical  politeness. 

Heaven  alone  knows  how  this  clapperclawing  of  the 
two  enemies  would  have  ended,  if  Mr.  Sipiagin  had  not 
hastily  put  a  stop  to  it.  He  raised  his  voice,  and  threw 
himself  into  an  attitude  in  which  it  would  have  been 
hard  to  say  whether  it  was  the  gravity  of  a  statesman, 
or  the  dignity  of  the  master  of  the  house  that  predom- 
inated, and  declared  with  calm  firmness  that  he  did 
not  care  to  hear  any  longer  at  his  table  such  improper 
expressions  ;  that  for  a  long  time  he  had  made  it  a  rule 
— an  inviolable  rule,  he  said,  correcting  himself — to  re- 
spect every  one's  convictions  ;  but  on  the  express  condition 
that  (here  he  raised  his  forefinger,  which  was  adorned  with  a 
seal  ring)  they  should  be  kept  within  the  limits  of  dignity 
and  propriety  ;  that  if,  on  the  one  hand,  he  could  not  help 
blaming  in  Mr.  Neshdanof  a  certain  extravagance  of  lan- 
guage, on  the  other  hand,  he  could  not  approve  the  warmth 
of  Mr.  Kallomeitsef 's  attacks  on  the  persons  in  the  opposite 
camp,  a  warmth,  he  might  add,  which  was  to  be  explained 
by  his  zeal  for  the  public  welfare. 

"  Under  my  roof,"  he  concluded,  "under  the  roof  of  the 
Sipiagins,  there  are  neither  Jacobins  nor  assassins  ;  there 
are  only  honorable  people,  who,  after  they  fully  understand 
one  another,  are  ready  to  shake  hands." 


I02  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Neshdanof  and  KallomcTtsef  both  kept  silence,  but  they 
did  not  shake  hands  ;  evidently  the  time  for  understand- 
ing one  another  had  not  come.  Far  from  it  ;  they  had 
never  detested  one  another  so  intensely. 

The  meal  was  finished  in  painful  silence.  Sipiagin  tried 
to  repeat  a  diplomatic  anecdote,  but  he  broke  down  half- 
way. 

Marianne  kept  her  eyes  on  her  plate.  She  did  not  wish 
to  betray  the  sympathy  which  was  aroused  in  her  by  Nesh- 
danof's  words.  She  was  not  at  all  afraid,  but  she  felt  it 
necessary  to  be  on  her  guard  before  Mme.  Sipiagin,  who, 
she  felt,  was  watching  her  closely. 

The  fact  is,  that  Mme.  Sipiagin  was  continually  looking 
at  Marianne  and  Neshdanof.  The  young  student's  sud- 
den outburst  had  at  first  astonished  her  ;  then  she  had  a  sort 
of  revelation,  a  sudden  flash  of  light,  which  had  made  her 
exclaim  involuntarily,  "  Ah  !  "  All  at  once  Mme.  Sipiagin 
had  understood  that  Neshdanof  was  breaking  loose  from 
her  ;  Neshdanof,  who,  not  long  before,  seemed  ready  to 
come  at  her  call.  What  had  happened  ?  Could  Marianne — 
Yes,  no  doubt — he  pleased  her — and  she — " 

"  I  shall  have  to  see  to  that,"  thought  Mme.  Sipiagin, 
concluding  her  reflections. 

Meanwhile  Kallomei'tsef  was  bursting  with  rage.  Two 
hours  later,  in  playing  "Preference,"  he  kept  saying  "Pass," 
or  "  I  take  it  up,"  with  an  imbittered  heart  ;  and  although 
he  tried  to  seem  above  everything  of  that  sort,  his  voice  was 
tremulous  from  the  unavenged  insult. 

Sipiagin  alone  was  positively  enchanted  with  this  scene. 
He  had  had  an  opportunity  to  air  his  eloquence,  to  calm 
the  rising  storm — Sipiagin  knew  Latin,  and  the  Qteos 
ego  of  Virgil  was  familiar  to  him.*  He  did  not  compare 
himself  in  so  many  words  to  Neptune,  but  just  at  that  mo- 
ment the  memory  of  that  god  was  not  displeasing  to  him. 

*  "  Quos  ego — !     Sed  motos  prsestat  componere  flectus, 
Post  mihi  non  simili  pcena  commissa  luetis" — 
Neptune's  address  to  the  troubled  sea  in  the  first  book  of  the  ^neid. 


XV. 

AT  the  first  convenient  opportunity,  Neshdanof  with- 
drew and  went  to  the  soHtude  of  his  own  room. 
He  did  not  want  to  see  any  one,  any  one  except  Marianne. 
■The  young  girl's  chamber  was  at  the  end  of  a  long  cor- 
ridor which  divided. the  whole  upper  floor.  Neshdanof  had 
never  been  in  her  rffom  except  once  for  a  few  minutes,  as 
he  was  passing  by  ;  but  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  that  evening 
she  might  not  be  angry  if  he  were  to  knock  at  her  door,  and 
even  as  if  she  might  be  glad  to  talk  with  him. 

It  was  tolerably  late,  about  ten  o'clock.  The  master 
and  mistress  of  the  house,  since  the  scene  at  dinner,  had 
paid  no  more  attention  to  Neshdanof,  and  were  playing 
cards  with  Kallomeitsef.  Mme.  Sipiagin  had  twice  asked 
for  Marianne,  who  had  also  disappeared  after  dinner. 

"  Where  can  Marianne  Vikentievna  be  ?  "  she  had  twice 
exclaimed,  first  in  Russian,  and  then  in  French,  without 
addressing  any  one  in  particular,  but  staring  at  the  walls,  as 
people  do  who  are  surprised,  after  which  she  had  at  once 
gone  on  with  the  game. 

Neshdanof  walked  up  and  down  his  room  for  some  time, 
then  he  Avent  along  the  hall  to  Marianne's  door  and  knocked 
gently.  There  was  no  answer.  He  knocked  a  second 
time,  and  tried  to  open  it.  The  door  was  locked,  but  he 
had  hardly  time  to  return  to  his  own  room  and  sit  down, 
before  his  own  door  creaked  slightly,  and  he  heard  Mari- 
anne's voice  :  ' 

"Alexis  Dimitritch,  was  it  you  who  knocked  at  my  door  ? " 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  rushed  to  the  hall. 

Marianne  was  standing  pale  and  motionless  at  the  door, 
with  a  candle  in  her  hand. 

"  It  was  I — yes,"  he  murmured. 

"  Come,"  she  answered. 

She  went  along  the  hall  ;  but  before  reaching  the  end, 

103 


104  VIRGIN  SOIL 

she  stopped  before  a  low  door  which  she  pushed  open. 
Neshdanof  saw  a  Httle,  almost  empty,  room. 

"  Let's  come  m  here,  Alexis  Dimitritch  ;  we  shan't  be 
disturbed." 

Neshdanof  obeyed.  Marianne  set  her  candle  down  in  a 
window-seat  and  turned  toward  him. 

"  I  know  why  you  wanted  to  see  me,"  she  said  ;  "  you 
find  life  in  this  house  hard.     So  do  I." 

"  Yes,  I  wanted  to  see  you,  Marianne  Vikentievna,"  an- 
swered Neshdanof  ;  "  but  my  life  is  no  longer  hard  since  I 
have  learned  to  know  you." 

Marianne  smiled  thoughtfully. 

"  Thank  you,  Alexis  Dimitritch  ;  but  tell  me,  do  you 
mean  to  stay  here  after  all  this  bad  treatment  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  shan't  stay,  because  they'll  send  me  off,"  an- 
swered Neshdanof. 

"  But  wouldn't  you  refuse  to  stay  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Why  ? " 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  the  real  reason?     Because  j'^z^ 

are  here." 

Marianne  bowed  her  head  and  withdrew  a  little  toward 
the  back  of  the  room. 

"  And  then,"  Neshdanof  went  on,  "  I  am  obliged  to  re- 
main here.  You  don't  know,  but  I  will  tell  you  every- 
thing.    I  feel  it  is  my  duty  to  speak  out  frankly." 

He  approached  Marianne,  and  took  her  hand  ;  she  did 
not  withdraw  it. 

*'  Listen  !  "  he  cried  with  a  sudden  and  violent  transport ; 
'■  listen  to  me  !  " 

And  at  once,  without  taking  the  trouble  to  sit  down  on 
one  of  the  two  or  three  chairs  which  composed  the  furni- 
ture of  the  room,  standing  before  Marianne  and  still  hold- 
ing her  hand,  Neshdanof,  with  a  fire,  an  excitement,  and 
eloquence  which  carried  him  on,  told  the  young  girl  about 
his  plans,  resolutions,  and  the  cause  which  had  induced  him 
to  accept  Sipiagin's  propositions  ;  he  spoke  of  his  relatives, 
his  past,  of  all  his  secrets  which  he  never  told  anyone,  of 
the  letters  he  had  received,  of  Vassili  Nicholaivitch,  of 
everything,  even  of  Siline. 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


105 


He  spoke  rapidly,  without  interruption,  without  hesita- 
tion, as  if  he  reproached  himself  for  having  delayed  so  long 
confiding  his  secrets  to  Marianne,  as  if  he  wanted  to  justify 
himself  before  her. 

She  listened  with  eager  attention.  Her  first  impression 
had  been  one  of  profound  astonishment.  But  this  feeling 
disappeared  almost  instantly  ;  gratitude,  devotion,  firm  res- 
olution, filled  her  soul.  Her  face,  her  eyes,  grew  bright. 
She  placed  her  hand  that  was  free  on  Neshdanof's  ;  her  lips 
opened  with  an  expression  of  enthusiasm.  She  had  sud- 
denly become  wonderfully  handsome. 

He  stopped  at  last,  looked  at  her,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
that  he  saw  for  the;.first  time  this  face  which  was  at  the 
same  time  so  dear  and  so  familiar  to  him.  • 

He  breathed  slowly,  deeply. 

"  Ah,  I've  done  right  to  tell  you  everything  !  "  he  mur- 
mured with  some  effort. 

"  Yes,  you  have  done  right — you  have  done  right,"  she 
said  in  a  low  voice  ;  involuntarily  she  had  begun  to  imitate 
Neshdanof  ;  and  then  she  caught  her  breath. 

"  You  know,  don't  you,  that  I  am  at  your  disposal  ;  that 
I  want,  too,  to  be  useful  to  your  cause  ;  that  I'm  ready  to 
do  whatever  is  necessary,  to  go  wherever  I'm  ordered  ; 
that  I  have  always,  and  with  my  whole  soul,  wanted  what 
you  want  ? " 

She,  too,  was  silent.  Another  word,  and  tears  of  sympa- 
thy would  have  rolled  from  her  eyes.  Her  strong  nature 
had  suddenly  become  as  soft  as  wax.  A  thirst  for  action, 
for  self-sacrifice,  for  immediate  self-sacrifice,  was  now  con- 
suming her. 

At  that  moment,  light,  furtive,  quick  steps  were  heard  on 
the  other  side  of  the  door. 

Marianne  straightened  herself,  and  freed  her  hands.  She 
had  changed  completely  ;  she  had  become  almost  gay.  But 
now  a  disdainful  and  bold  look  flashed  over  her  face. 

"  I  know  who's  playing  the  spy  upon  us,  now,"  she  said 
so  loudly,  that  every  one  of  her  words  echoed  in  the  hall. 
"  It's  Mme.  Sipiagin  who's  eavesdropping.    But  it  makes  no 
difference  to  me." 
The  sound  of  steps  ceased. 


io6  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  Well,"  said  Marianne  to  Neshdanof,  "  what  am  I  to  do  ? 
How  can  I  be  of  use  to  you  ?  Speak,  speak  quickly  ;  what 
am  I  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  yet,"  answered  Neshdanof.  "  I  have  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Markelof." 

"  When  ?     When  was  that  ?  " 

*'  This  evening.  I  must  go  with  him  to-morrow  to  Sol- 
omine's  mill." 

"  Yes,  yes.  What  an  excellent  man  Markelof  is  !  What 
a  true  friend  !  " 

"  Like  me  ? " 

Marianne  looked  Neshdanof  straight  in  the  face. 

''  No  ;  not  like  you." 

"  H(5w  then  ? " 

She  turned  away. 

"  Ah,  you  don't  know  yet  what  you  have  become  to  me, 
and  what  I  am  feeling  at  this  moment." 

Neshdanof's  heart  began  to  beat  swiftly  and  strongly  ; 
involuntarily  he  cast  down  his  eyes.  This  young  girl  who 
loved  him,  him,  a  homeless  vagal^ond,  who  intrusted  herself 
to  him,  and  was  ready  to  follow  him,  to  march  with  him  to- 
ward one  and  the  same  end  ;  this  fearless  young  girl,  Mari- 
anne, became  in  a  moment  for  Neshdanof  the  embodiment 
of  all  that  is  good  and  generous  on  earth  ;  the  embodi- 
ment of  the  feminine,  paternal,  family  friendship  that  he 
had  never  known — the  embodiment  of  country,  happiness, 
effort,  and  liberty. 

He  raised  his  head,  and  he  saw  Marianne's  eyes  again 
fastened  on  his.  Oh  !  how  that  clear,  frank  look  sank  to 
the  bottom  of  his  soul  ! 

"So  then,"  he  resumed  with  an  uncertain  voice,  "  I  go 
away  to-morrow.  And  when  I  come  back,  I  will  tell  you  " 
(he  found  it  hard  now  to  sayjw/),  "I'll  tell  you  what  I've 
heard — what  has  been  decided.  Starting  from  to-day,  what- 
ever I  shall  do  or  think,  I  shall  tell  to  thee." 

"  Oh,  my  friend  !  "  cried  Marianne,  seizing  his  hand 
again,  "  I  shall  do  the  same  with  thee." 

This  thee  had  come  as  easily  and  simply  as  one  might 
use  it  to  a  comrade.* 

*  But  for  greater  naturalness,  this  form  will  not  be  kept  up  in  the 
translation. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  107 

"  Can  I  see  the  letter  ? " 

"Yes;  here  it  is." 

Marianne  ran  it  over,  and  raised  her  eyes  to  Neshdanof 
with  a  sort  of  veneration. 

"  And  do  they  intrust  such  an  important  mission  to  you  ?  " 

He  answered  by  a  smile,  and  returned  the  letter  to  his 
pocket. 

"  It's  strange,"  he  said  then  ;  "  we  have  convinced  one 
another  of  our  love,  and  yet  not  a  word  of  love  has  been 
uttered  between  us." 

"  Where  was  the  need  ? "  murmured  Marianne  ;  and  sud- 
denly she  flung  herself  on  to  his  neck,  resting  her  head  on 
his  shoulder.  ^ 

They  did  not  exchange  a  kiss,  that  would  have  been  vul- 
gar, and  at  the  same  time  terrible  ;  such  at  least  was  their 
feeling  about  it,  and  they  separated  at  once,  after  a  hearty 
pressure  of  the  hand. 

Marianne  took  up  the  candle  which  she  had  placed  in 
the  window-seat  of  this  empty  room,  and  only  then  did  she 
have  a  feeling  of  amazement.  She  blew  out  the  candle, 
glided  through  the  hall  in  the  thick  darkness,  reached  her 
room,  undressed,  and  went  to  bed — still  in  the  darkness, 
which  seemed  to  her,  at  that  moment,  a  pleasant  and  a 
friendly  shield. 


XVI. 

WHEN  he  woke  up  the  next  morning,  Neshdanof  felt 
no  regret  at  recalling  what  had  taken  place  the 
evening  before  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  filled  with  a  calm 
and  peaceful  joy,  as  if  he  had  accomplished  something 
which  had  been  hanging  over  his  head  for  a  long  time. 

After  having  asked  Sipiagin  for  two  days'  leave  of  absence, 
which  was  granted  him  without  hesitation,  although  some- 
what coldly,  Neshdanof  started  for  Markelof's. 

Before  going  he  had  had  time  to  see  Marianne.  She  was 
no  longer  confused  or  embarrassed  ;  she  looked  at  him 
calmly  and  spoke  to  him  quite  as  calmly.  She  was  only 
uneasy  about  what  he  might  hear  at  Markelof's,  and  she 
besought  him  to  tell  her  everything. 

"  Certainly  I  shall,"  answered  Neshdanof. 

"  In  fact,"  he  thought,  "  why  should  we  be  disturbed  ? 
In  our  relations  to  one  another  personal  feeling  has  played 
a  subordinate  part,  and  we  have  united  ourselves  for- 
ever, in  the  name  of  the  work.  Yes,  in  the  name  of  the 
work." 

So  Neshdanof  thought,  and  he  by  no  means  suspected 
how  much  truth  and  falsehood  there  was  in  this  belief. 

He  found  Markelof  in  the  same  state  of  mind,  angry  and 
tired.  After  they  had  dined  meagerly,  they  started  off  in 
the  tarantass,  which  has  already  been  described  (Markelof's 
leader  was  still  lame  ;  its  place  had  been  taken  by  a 
peasant's  colt,  hired  for  the  journey,  which  had  never  been 
in  harness  before),  for  the  merchant  Falei'ef's  large  cotton 
mill,  of  which  Solomine  was  the  superintendent.  Neshdanof 's 
curiosity  was  very  much  excited  ;  he  felt  very  anxious  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  this  man,  of  whom  he  had  for  a 
long  time  heard  so  much. 

Solomine   was   expecting   them ;    as   soon   as   the   two 

io8 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  109 

Strangers  arrived  before  the  door  and  had  sent  in  their 
names,  they  were  introduced  into  the  wretched  little  house 
where  the  superintendent  lived.  He  was  at  that  moment 
in  the  main  building  ;  while  one  of  the  workmen  went  to 
announce  his  visitors,  they  had  time  to  go  to  the  window 
and  look  about. 

The  mill  was  evidently  very  prosperous  and  overrun 
with  work  ;  on  all  sides  arose  a  hoarse  roar,  the  clatter  of 
incessant  activity ;  the  engines  puffed  and  rattled ;  the 
looms  buzzed,  the  wheels  whirred,  the  leather  straps 
hummed  ;  from  all  quarters,  carts,  casks,  and  telegas  were 
being  filled  ;  cries,  -orders,  the  snapping  of  whips  filled 
the  air.  Workmen  'with  their  shirts  bound  around  their 
waists,  and  their  hair  fastened  by  a  little  strap,  workmen 
in  faded  calico  gowns,  were  hastily  crossing  the  courtyard, 
while  horses  in  carts  were  walking  slowly  and  heavily  by. 
Might  like  that  of  a  thousand  human  beings  could  be  felt 
vibrating,  palpitating,  and  beating  about  them.  It  was 
moving  smoothly,  without  interruption,  with   full  strength. 

Not  only  was  there  no  elegance  anywhere,  nor  even  any 
attempt  at  it,  but  the  simplest  cleanliness  was  lacking  ;  in- 
deed, everywhere  was  carelessness,  filth,  mud,  and  old  soot ; 
here  was  a  broken  window,  there  some  fallen  mortar,  else- 
where some  tumbling  planks  in  a  wall  ;  a  yawning  doorway, 
the  door  having  lost  its  hinges  ;  a  great  black  pool,  its  stag- 
nant surface  glistening  with  decay,  filled  the  middle  of  the 
principal  courtyard,  near  some  heaps  of  loose  bricks.  Bits  of 
matting,  of  wrappings,  of  boxes,  rope-ends,  lay  on  the  damp 
ground  ;  shaggy,  hungry-looking  dogs  were  roaming  about, 
without  even  barking  ;  a  little  boy  about  four  years  old, 
with  a  prominent  belly,  his  hair  in  disorder,  covered  with 
soot,  was  sitting  in  a  corner,  leaning  against  a  fence,  and 
crying  as  if  the  whole  world  had  forsaken  him  ;  close  by 
him,  and  covered  with  the  same  soot,  surrounded  by  her 
motley-colored  sucklings,  a  sow  was  eating  some  stumps  of 
cabbages  ;  ragged  clothes  were  hanging  along  a  line.  And 
what  a  stench  !  what  vile  exhalations  !  A  real  Russian 
mill,  not  an  English  or  French  factory. 

Neshdanof  turned  toward  Markelof. 

"  I've  heard  so  much  said,"  he  began,  "  about  Solomine's 


no  VIRGIN  SOU. 

exceptional  qualifications,  that  I  confess  all  this  disorder 
surprises  me  ;  it's  not  what  I  expected." 

"  It's  not  disorder,"  answered  Markelof  with  some 
Avarmth.  "  It's  Russian  dirtiness.  Yet  there  arc  millions 
invested  here  !  Solomine  is  obHged  to  consider  his  em- 
ployer's old  habits,  and  enterprise,  and  character.  Have 
you  any  notion  what  sort  of  a  man  Falei'ef  is  ?  " 

"  None  at  all." 

"  He's  the  biggest  skin-flint  in  Moscow.  He's  not  a  gen- 
tleman." 

At  that  moment  Solomine  came  in.  This  was  another 
disenchantment  for  Neshdanof.  At  the  first  glance  Solo- 
mine looked  to  him  like  a  Finn,  or  rather,  like  a  Swede. 

He  was  tall  ;  a  very  light-complexioned  man,  thin  and 
strong  ;  his  face  was  long  and  sallow,  his  nose  short  with 
broad  nostrils  ;  he  had  little  green  eyes,  a  calm  and  confi- 
dent expression,  strong,  somewhat  prominent  lips,  large 
white  teeth,  a  square  chin,  just  covered  with  a  light  down. 

He  wore  the  dress  of  a  workman,  of  a  fireman — an  old 
jacket  with  yawning  pockets,  an  oil -silk  cap  full  of  creases, 
tarred  boots,  and  a  woolen  scarf  about  his  neck. 

There  came  in  with  him  a  man  about  forty  years  old 
who  looked  like  a  gipsy,  as  much  by  the  extreme  mobility 
of  his  face,  as  by  his  bright  black  eyes,  which  quickly 
swept  over  Neshdanof.  He  already  knew  Markelof.  He 
was  named  Paul,  and  was  a  sort  of  a  factotum  of  Solo- 
mine's. 

Solomine  went  up  to  his  two  visitors  without  saying  a 
word,  shook  their  hands  with  his  own  hard  hand,  took  out 
from  a  drawer  a  sealed  packet,  and  without  saying  a  word 
gave  it  to  Paul,  who  at  once  disappeared.  Then  he 
stretched  himself,  cleared  his  throat,  threw  off  his  cap  with 
a  wave  of  his  hand,  sat  down  on  a  painted  wooden  stool, 
and  pointing  to  a  bench  of  the  same  kind,  he  said  to  the 
visitors  : 

"  Sit  down,  please." 

Markelof  first  introduced  Neshdanof  to  Solomine  ;  he 
grasped  the  new-comer's  hand  for  the  second  time. 

Then  Markelof  began  to  talk  about  the  "  work,"  and 
about  Vassili  Nicholaivitch's  letter.     Neshdanof  handed  the 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  HI 

letter  to  Solomine.  While  he  was  reading  it,  going  from 
one  line  to  another  attentively  and  without  haste,  Neshda- 
nof  looked  at  him. 

Solomine  was  sitting  near  the  window  ;  the  sun,  already- 
low,  lit  clearly  his  sun-burned  face  on  which  lay  a  few 
drops  of  perspiration,  and  his  light  hair,  covered  with  dust, 
on  which  were  shining  a  crowd  of  little  golden  points. 
Solomine's  nostrils  dilated  slightly  during  the  reading,  and 
he  moved  his  lips  as  if  he  were  pronouncing  every  word  ; 
he  held  the  latter  firmly  in  both  hands  directly  in  front  of 
his  eyes.  All  this,  heaven  knows  why,  made  a  favorable 
impression  on  Neshdanof. 

Solomine  gave  th^  letter  back  to  the  young  man,  smiled, 
and  bega,Ti  to  listen  again  to  Markelof,  who  had  been  talk- 
ing for  some  time.     When  he  had  finished, 

"See  here,"  said  Solomine,  in  a  somewhat  husky,  but 
young  and  strong  voice,  which  also  pleased  Neshdanof, 
"  this  is  not  a  very  convenient  place  for  talking  ;  let  us  go 
to  your  house,  it's  only  seven  versts.  You  came  in  a  tar- 
antass,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Good  !  there  will  be  room  enough.  My  work  will  be 
over  in  an  hour,  and  I  shall  be  free.  We  will  talk.  You 
are  free  too  ? "  he  asked  Neshdanof. 

"  Until  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  Very  well  ;  we'll  pass  the  night  there.  You  are  agreed, 
Serge  Michaelovitch  ? " 

"  What  a  question  !  of  course." 

"  Very  well  ;  I  shall  be  ready  very  soon,  only  let  me 
spruce  myself  up  a  little." 

"  And  how  are  matters  in  the  factory  ?  "  asked  Markelof 
meaningly. 

Solomine  averted  his  eyes. 

"  We'll  talk  about  that,"  he  repeated.  "  Wait ;  I'll  be 
back  in  a  moment.     I've  forgotten  something." 

He  went  out.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  good  impression 
he  had  made  on  Neshdanof,  the  young  student  would 
probably  have  thought  and  ]jerha]is  said,  "  Isn't  he  good 
stuff  ?  "  but  it  didn't  occur  to  him  that  there  was  any  need 
of  this  question. 


112  VIRGIN   SOIL. 

An  hour  later,  while  every  floor  was  discharging  a  noisy 
crowd  of  workmen,  down  the  staircases,  through  all  the 
doors,  a  tarantass,  in  which  were  seated  Markelof,  Nesh- 
danof,  and  Solomine  turned  through  the  main  gateway  into 
the  high  road. 

"  Vassili  Fedoitch  !  "  shouted  Paul  to  Solomine,  whom  he 
had  accompanied  to  the  gate.     "  Shall  we  begin  ?  " 

"  Wait  a  little  while,"  answered  Solomine.  "  It's  about 
some  business,"  he  explained  to  his  companions. 

They  reached  Borzionkovo,  and  went  through  the  form 
of  eating  a  supper  ;  and  after  lighting  their  cigars,  they 
began  one  of  those  interminable  all-night  talks,  familiar  to 
Russians,  but  unknown  to  any  other  people. 

Once  more  Solomine  surprised  Neshdanof.  He  spoke 
remarkably  little,  so  little  that  one  might  say  he  did  not 
speak  at  all  ;  but  he  listened  with  unrelaxing  attention,  and 
when  he  said  anything  it  was  to  the  point  and  very  brief. 

It  turned  out  that  Solomine  did  not  believe  that  a  revo- 
lution was  impending  in  Russia  ;  but  not  wishing  to  force 
his  opinion  on  the  others,  he  let  them  say  their  say,  and 
listened  to  them,  not  coldly  and  distantly,  but  sympatheti- 
cally. He  knew  well  the  revolutionists  of  Petersburg, 
and,  up  to  a  certain  point,  he  sympathized  with  them,  for 
he  was  one  of  the  people  ;  but  he  also  took  into  account 
the  inevitable  indifference  of  the  people,  without  whom, 
nevertheless,  nothing  could  take  place,  and  the  long  prep- 
aration they  needed,  but  of  another  sort  and  toward  a 
wholly  different  end.  That  is  why  he  kept  aloof,  not 
like  a  crafty  man  who  is  hedging,  but  like  a  sensible  man 
who  does  not  care  to  throw  away  uselessly  himself  or  any 
one  else.  As  to  listening  to  them,  why  should  he  not  ?  and 
he  might  learn  something. 

Solomine  was  the  only  son  of  a  church  chorister  ;  he 
had  five  sisters,  all  married  to  priests  and  deacons  ;  but, 
with  the  consent  of  his  father,  who  was  a  sober,  serious 
man,  he  had  left  the  seminary  and  devoted  himself  to 
studying  mathematics,  and  mechanics  especially,  for  which 
he  had  taken  a  great  fancy.  An  Englishman,  the  superin- 
tendent of  a  mill  into  which  he  had  entered,  and  who  had 
grown  to  love  him  as  a  son,  had  given  him  the  means  to  gc 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  113 

to  Manchester,  and  stay  two  years  there,  learning  EngHsh. 
Having  recently  entered  the  Moscow  merchant's  mill,  he 
was  stern  with  his  subordinates,  because  he  had  seen  that 
was  the  way  in  England  ;  and  yet  they  were  attached  to 
him. 

"  He's  one  of  us,"  they  said. 

His  father  was  very  proud  of  him,  calling  him  a  "punc- 
tual man,"  and  only  regretting  one  thing,  that  he  did  not 
get  married. 

During  this  conversation,  Solomine,  as  we  have  said,  was 
almost  continually  silent  ;  but  when  Markelof  began  to  talk 
of  the  hopes  he  had  of  the  mill-hands,  Solomine,  with  his 
usual  brevity,  poinfed  out  that  workmen  in  Russia  were  the 
mildest  class  possible,  and  totally  unHke  the  workmen  of 
other  countries. 

"  And  the  moujiks  ?  "  asked  Markelof. 

"  The  moujiks  ?  There  are  a  certain  number  of  monopo- 
lists among  them,  and  there  will  be  more  every  year  ;  but 
they  only  know  one  thing,  their  own  interests  ;  as  to  the 
others,  they  are  sheep — and  what  dense  ignorance  !  " 

"  But  where  shall  we  turn  ? " 

Solomine  smiled. 

"  Seek  and  you  shall  find." 

He  smiled  almost  all  the  time,  and  his  smile,  like  every- 
thing about  him,  was  natural  and  thoughtful.  He  was 
particularly  gentle  to  Neshdanof  ;  the  young  student 
aroused  in  him  a  feeling  of  sympathy,  almost  of  tender- 
ness. 

There  was  a  moment  when  Neshdanof  suddenly  flushed 
crimson  from  excitement  ;  Solomine  rose  slowly,  crossed 
the  room  with  measured  steps,  and  closed  a  window  that 
was  open  over  Neshdanof 's  head.  "  You  mustn't  catch 
cold,"  he  said  kindly,  as  if  in  answer  to  his  look  of  sur- 
prise. 

Neshdanof  then  asked  what  socialist  ideas  he  intended  to 
introduce  in  the  mill  of  which  he  had  charge,  and  if  he 
intended  to  divide  the  profits  among  the  workmen. 

"  My  poor    fellow,"    answered    Solomine,    "  the   owner 
kicked  like  a  mule  against  letting  us  merely  found  a  school, 
and  a  little  bit  of  a  hospital." 
8 


114  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Only  once  did  Solomine  get  really  angry  ;  he  struck  his 
sturdy  fist  so  hard  on  the  table  before  him  that  he  made 
everything  jump,  including  a  forty-pound  weight  which 
stood  by  the  side  of  the  inkstand  ;  it  was  about  an  unjust 
judgment,  and  the  persecutions  inflicted  on  an  artel*  of 
workmen. 

When  Neshdanof  and  Markelof  began  to  talk  about  the 
measures  to  be  taken  in  order  to  put  their  plans  into  action, 
Solomine  continued  to  listen  with  curiosity,  even  with  re- 
spect, but  he  did  not  say  another  word. 

They  sat  up  till  four  in  the  morning,  and  what  was  there 
that  they  did  not  talk  about  ?  Markelof  spoke,  among  other 
things,  of  the  indefatigable  traveler,  Kisliakof  ;  of  his  let- 
ters, which  were  always  growing  in  interest  ;  he  promised 
Neshdanof  that  he  would  show  him  some,  and  even  lend 
him  some  to  read  at  home,  they  were  so  long,  and  the 
hand-writing  was  somewhat  hard  to  read,  and  especially 
because  they  contained  so  much.  They  contained  even 
verses,  not  trivial  or  frivolous  poetry,  but  poetry  with 
social  aims. 

From  Kisliakof,  Markelof  branched  off  to  soldiers, 
aides-de-camp,  Germans  in  the  Russian  service,  and  even 
to  his  articles  on  artillery.  Neshdanof  spoke  of  the  antag- 
onism between  Heine  and  Bcerne,  of  Proudhon,  and  realism 
in  art. 

As  for  Solomine,  he  listened  attentively,  smoking  his 
cigar  and  smiling  constantly  ;  but,  without  saying  one  strik- 
ing word,  he  yet  seemed  to  understand  the  truth  better 
than  the  others. 

Four  o'clock  struck — Neshdanof  and  Markelof  were 
so  tired  they  could  hardly  stand,  but  Solomine  was  still 
fresh.  They  separated  after  agreeing  to  go  next  morning 
to  the  town,  to  see  the  merchant  Goloushkine — the  Old 
Believer — and  get  converts.  Goloushkine  was  full  of 
enthusiasm,  and  he  had  promised  proselytes  !  Solomine 
began  by  expressing  a  doubt : 

"  Was  it  really  worth  while  to  go  see  Goloushkine  ? " 
Then  he  ended  by  saying,  "  Why  not  ?  " 

*  Artel.     A  society  of  young  men  of  the  same  trade,  a  rudimentary 
co-operation  society,  such  as  has  long  existed  in  Russia. 


XVII. 

MARKELOF'S  guests  were  still  sleeping  when  he  re- 
ceived by  express  a  letter  from  his  sister,  Mme.  Sipi- 

^gi"-  .  ... 

Valentine  spok(fin  her  note  of  some  msignificant  matters, 

begged  him  to  send  back  to  her  a  book  which  she  had  lent 
him,  and  apropos  of  nothing,  told  him  in  the  postscript  an 
amusing  bit  of  news,  which  was  that  his  old  love,  Mari- 
anne, had  fallen  violently  in  love  with  the  new  tutor,  Nesh- 
.  danof,  and  he  with  her ;  and  this  was  not  a  bit  of  gossip 
which  she  was  repeating,  but  an  actual  fact,  for  she  had 
seen  with  her  own  eyes,  and  heard  with  her  own  ears. 

Markelof's  face  became  as  black  as  night — but  he  did 
not  speak  a  single  word  ;  he  gave  the  book  to  the  messen- 
ger, and  meeting  Neshdanof,  who  was  coming  down  stairs, 
he  wished  him  good  day  as  usual  ;  he  even  gave  him  the 
packet  of  Kisliakof's  letters  which  he  had  promised  him  ; 
but  he  did  not  stay  with  him,  he  went  out  to  "  superintend 
the  work." 

Neshdanof  went  back  to  his  chamber,  and  ran  through 
the  letters.  In  them,  the  young  propagandist  spoke  con- 
stantly of  himself,  of  his  feverish  activity  :  to  use  his  own 
expressions  he  had,  during  the  last  month,  rolled  over  the 
highways  of  eleven  districts,  visited  nine  towns,  twenty- 
nine  villages,  fifty-three  hamlets,  a  farm,  and  eight  factories  ; 
he  had  passed  sixteen  nights  in  barns,  one  in  a  stable,  and 
one  even  in  a  cow-barn  (here  he  remarked  in  a  parenthesis, 
with  a  nota  bene,  that  fleas  never  bit  him) ;  he  had  made  his 
way  into  the  workmen's  cabins,  and  into  the  barracks  of  the 
railway  navvies  ;  everywhere  he  had  instructed  and  indoc- 
trinated, everywhere  he  had  distributed  pamphlets  and 
collected  information  while  on  the  wing  ;  sometimes  writing 
it  down  on  the  sj)ot,  and  sometimes  committing  it  to  mem- 

"5 


Il6  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

ory  by  the  most  approved  system  of  modern  mnemonics  , 
he  had  written  fourteen  long  letters,  twenty-eight  short 
ones,  eighteen  notes  (of  which  four  were  in  pencil,  one  in 
blood,  one  in  soot  and  water)  ;  and  the  reason  he  found  it 
possible  to  do  so  many  things  was,  that  he  understood  how 
to  distribute  his  time  systematically,  according  to  the  pre- 
cepts of  Quentin,  Johnson,  Sverlitsky,  Carelius,  and  other 
statisticians  and  publicists. 

Then  he  began  speaking  of  himself  again,  of  how  he 
had  completed  Fourier's  theory  of  "  passional  attraction  ;  " 
he  had  been  the  first  he  said  to  find  the  true  "Soil," and 
"  he  would  not  pass  from  the  earth  and  leave  no  trace  ;  " 
he  was  even  surprised  that  he,  a  young  fellow  of  twenty- 
two,  should  have  already  solved  all  the  problems  of  life  and 
of  science._  He  wound  up  by  declaring  that  he  would  trans- 
form Russia  ;  that  he  would  shake  it  like  a  plum-tree  ;  that 
he  would  turn  it  inside  out  like  a  glove. 

"Dixif"  he  added.  This  ^/x/ often  recurred  in  Kis- 
liakof's  letters,  and  always  accompanied  by  an  exclamation 
point. 

One  of  the  letters  contained  a  socialistic  poem,  addressed 
to  a  young  girl,  beginning  with  these  words  : 

"  Love  not  me,  but  the  idea  !  " 

Neshdanof  was  surprised,  not  so  much  at  the  conceit  of 
Mr.  Kisliakof,  as  at  Markelof's  naive  indulgence  of  him. 
But  having  reflected  he  said  to  himself  : 

"  Bah  !  Kisliakof  will  be  useful  in  his  way  ;  down  with 
esthetics  !  " 

The  three  friends  met  again  in  the  dining-room  at  break- 
fast ;  but  the  discussion  of  the  night  before  was  not  re- 
sumed ;  no  one  felt  like  talking.  But  Solomine  alone  was 
tranquil  ;  the  silence  of  the  two  others  revealed  their  secret 
agitation. 

After  breakfast  they  started  for  the  town  ;  and  Marke- 
lof's old  servant,  seated  upon  the  steps,  followed  his  master 
with  the  sad  and  mournful  look  which  was  habitual  to  him. 

Goloushkine,  the  merchant,  whose  acquaintance  Nesh- 
danof was  to  make,  was  the  son  of  an  Old  Believer,  who 
had  made  a  fortune  by  selling  drugs.  Goloushkine  had  not 
increased  the  fortune  left  him  by  his  father,  for  he  was  a  high 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


117 


liver,  as  they  say,  a  Russian  epicurean,  and  he  had  none  of 
the  quahties  necessary  to  commerce. 

He  was  a  man  of  about  forty,  rather  stout,  and  very 
ugly — his  face  pitted  by  small-pox,  and  with  small  pig's 
eyes  ;  he  spoke  Avith  volubility,  mixing  up  his  words,  and 
continually  jerking  his  arms  and  legs,  with  expressions  of 
forced  laughter.  On  the  whole  he  looked  like  a  big  spoiled 
child,  rather  silly  and  vain  withal. 

He  considered  himself  a  man  of  culture  because  he 
dressed  in  the  German  fashion,  kept  open  house,  and  had 
to  do  with  rich  people  ;  he  went  to  the  theater  and  formed 
intrigues  with  the  actresses,  to  whom  he  talked  in  a  ridicu- 
lous jargon  which  pretended  to  be  French. 

His  ruling  passion  was  desire  of  popularity ;  he  would 
have  I'iked  to  have  the  name  of  Goloushkine  resounding 
through  the  whole  universe,  and  that  people  should  talk  of 
Kapiton  Goloushkine  as  they  talk  of  Suwarrow  or  Po- 
temkin.  This  passion,  which  had  overcome  his  innate 
avarice,  had,  as  he  used  to  say  Avith  pride,  thrown  him  into 
the  opposition,  or  "  position,"  as  he  at  first  pronounced  it, 
until  he  was  corrected.  He  had  ended  by  becoming  a 
Nihilist  ;  he  professed  the  most  extreme  opinions,  ridiculed 
his  own  sect,  feasted  on  fast  days,  played  cards,  and  drank 
champagne  like  water.  His  opinions  had  never  brought 
him  into  trouble,  because,  he  used  to  say,  "  all  the  authori- 
ties have  been  bought  by  me  for  ready  money,  all  the  joints 
are  stopped  up,  all  mouths  closed,  all  ears  sealed." 

He  was  a  widower,  and  childless  ;  his  sister's  sons  pur- 
sued him  with  a  sort  of  servile  terror  ;  but  he  treated  them 
like  uneducated  clodhoppers  and  barbarians,  and  hardly 
permitted  them  to  show  themselves  before  him. 

He  lived  in  a  handsome  stone  house,  which  was  very  ill- 
kept  ;  certain  rooms  were  furnished  in  the  European  fash- 
ion, while  others  contained  absolutely  nothing  but  some  lit- 
tle chairs  and  a  sofa  covered  with  oilcloth.  There  were 
pictures  everywhere,  real  daubs,  red  landscapes,  violet  sea- 
pieces,  Moller's  "-Le  Baiser"  great  naked  women  with  red 
knees  and  elbows. 

Although  Goloushkine  had  no  family  properly  so-called, 
his  house  was  overrun  with  lackeys  and  parasites  whom  he 


Il8  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

supported,  not  from  generosity,  but  on  account  of  the  in- 
satiable thirst  for  popularity  wliich  possessed  him,  and  also 
in  order  to  have  people  whom  he  could  order  round  and 
play  the  great  man  to. 

"  My  clients,"  he  used  to  say  with  pride.  He  never  read 
a  word,  but  he  never  forgot  learned  expressions. 

The  three  young  people  found  Goloushkine  in  his  library. 
He  was  wrapped  in  a  big  coat,  with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth, 
pretending  to  read  the  paper.  When  he  saw  them,  he 
sprang  up  ;  went  first  to  the  right,  then  to  the  left,  blushed, 
ordered  that  some  luncheon  be  brought  at  once,  asked  a 
question,  burst  out  laughing  about  something  else — and  all 
this  at  once  ! 

He  knew  two  of  the  young  men  ;  Neshdanof  was  the  only 
stranger.  When  he  heard  he  was  a  student,  Goloushkine 
burst  out  laughing  for  the  second  time,  squeezed  his  hand 
again,  and  said  : 

"  Bravo  !  bravo  !  a  capital  recruit  !  Science  is  light ; 
ignorance  is  darkness  !  For  my  part,  I  never  had  a  pen- 
ny's worth  of  instruction  in  my  life  ;  but  I  understand  things 
because  I  go  straight  to  the  core." 

Neshdanof  thought  he  saw  that  Goloushkine  was  embar- 
rassed and  timid.  He  was  right.  At  the  sight  of  every  new 
face,  Goloushkine  used  to  say  to  himself  : 

"  Take  care,  Kapiton,  don't  fall  with  your  nose  in  the 
mire." 

He  soon  recovered  himself,  and  in  his  stammering,  con- 
fused, and  hasty  way,  he  began  to  talk  about  the  mys- 
terious Vassili  NicholaTvitch,  of  his  character,  of  the  need 
of  the  pro-pa-gan-da  (he  knew  this  word  very  well,  but  he 
always  pronounced  it  slowly),  of  a  new  and  very  serious 
convert  whom  he  had  discovered  himself,  he,  Goloushkine  ; 
the  moment,  he  went  on,  had  nearly  come  ;  all  was  ready 
for  the — for  the  stroke  of  the  lancet  (when  he  said  this  he 
looked  at  Markelof,  who  did  not  move  even  his  eyebrows); 
then  turning  to  Neshdanof  he  began  to  boast  about  him- 
self, so  that  he  could  have  given  points  to  Kisliakof,  the 
great  correspondent. 

At  that  moment  a  servant  brought  in  luncheon.  Goloush- 
kine coughed  significantly,  invited  his  guests  to  "  make  a 


VIRGIN  SOU.  XIC) 

hole  in  it,"  and  by  way  of  example  swallowed  a  glass  of 
peppered  brandy.  The  others  began  to  eat  their  luncheon. 
Goloushkine  crammed  great  lumps  of  pressed  caviare  into 
his  mouth,  and  drank  in  due  proportion. 

''Come,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  want  you  to  taste  this 
Macon." 

Then,  turning  to  Neshdanof,  he  asked  him  where  he 
came  from,  where  he  lived,  if  he  was  there  for  long  ;  and 
when  he  heard^  that  he  lived  with  the  Sipiagins,  he  cried  : 

"  I  know  that  gentleman,  he's  an  empty-headed  fellow." 

And  thereupon  he  fell  upon  all  the  proprietors  of  the 

government  of   S ^,  declaring  that  they  lacked  not  only 

all  the  qualities  of  citizens,  but  also  the  knowledge  of  their 
own  interests. 

But,  oddly  enough,  while  he  was  talking  in  this  energetic 
way,  a  certain  restlessness  could  be  detected  in  his  eyes, 
which  were  turning  in  every  direction.  Neshdanof  could 
not  make  out  very  clearly  what  this  man  could  be,  nor 
how  he  could  be  useful  to  them.  Solomine,  according  to 
his  habit,  remained  silent,  and  Markelof  looked  so  gloomy 
that  Neshdanof  asked  him  at  last  what  was  the  matter. 
To  which  Markelof  answered,  "  Nothing,"  in  the  tone  one 
uses  to  imply  that  one  has  really  something  to  say,  but 
prefers  not  to  say  it. 

Goloushkine  soon  began  again  his  criticisms,  then  he  sud- 
denly turned  to  eulogizing  the  young  generation.  "  What 
intelligent  fellows  they  are  !  oh,  what  capital  fellows  !  " 

Solomine  interrupted  him  to  ask  of  what  young  people 
he  was  speaking,  and  where  he  had  met  them. 

Goloushkine  burst  out  laughing  as  was  his  custom,  and 
said  : 

"  Oh,  you'll  see,  you'll  see  !  " 

Then  he  asked  Solomine  about  his  factory  and  its 
rascally  owner.  Solomine  answered  with  monosyllables. 
Thereupon  Goloushkine  filled  every  one's  glass  with  cham- 
pagne, and  bowing  to  Neshdanof,  he  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  To  the  republic  !  "  And  he  drained  his  glass  with  one 
draft. 

Neshdanof  pretended  to  drink  ;  Solomine  excused  him- 
self, saying  he  never  drank  wine  in  the  morning  ;   Markelof 


X20  VIRGIN   SOIL. 

angrily  emi)tied  his  glass  to  the  last  drop.  He  was  evi- 
dently very  impatient.  "  We  are  just  taking  our  ease  here," 
he  seemed  to  say,  "  and  we  don't  take  up  the  question  !  " 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  at  last,  somewhat  peevishly,  rap- 
ping on  the  table. 

But  just  as  he  was  about  to  speak  there  entered  the 
room  a  man  with  very  smooth  hair,  who  was  rather  sickly- 
looking,  and  had  a  bottle-nose.  He  wore  a  nankeen 
caftan,  such  as  is  commonly  worn  by  shopkeepers,  and 
came  forward  cautiously,  holding  his  arms  out  from  his 
body.  This  individual  bowed  to  the  company  and  whis- 
pered a  few  words  into  Goloushkine's  ear. 

"  At  once,  at  once  !  "  was  the  hasty  answer.  "  Gentle- 
men, I  must  ask  you  to  excuse  me.  Vania,  my  clerk,  has 
just  reminded  me  of  something  that  compels  me  to  leave 
you  for  a  time;  but  I  hope,  gentlemen,  that  you  will  be  good 
enough  to  come  and  eat  a  mouthful  with  me  at  three  o'clock; 
we  shall  be  much  freer." 

Solomine  and  Neshdanof  did  not  know  what  answer  to 
make;  but  Markelof,  with  the  same  ill-humor  on  his  face 
and  in  his  voice,  answered  at  once  : 

"  Certainly  we  will  come  !  otherwise,  what  a  farce  we 
should  be  playing  !  " 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you  !  "  said  Goloushkine,  and  he 
added  with  a  bow  to  Markelof,  "  Whatever  happens,  I'll 
give  a  thousand  rubles  to  the  cause,  you  may  be  sure  of 
that." 

He  thrust  out  three  times  his  right  hand  with  the  thumb 
and  little  finger  extended,  as  a  proof  of  his  sincerity.  After 
he  had  accompanied  his  guests  to  the  door,  he  stopped  on 
the  threshold,  and  said  : 

"  I  shall  expect  you  at  three  o'clock." 

"  You  may  expect  us,"  answered  Markelof  alone. 

When  they  were  all  three  in  the  street,  Solomine  said  to 
them,  "  Gentlemen,  I'm  going  to  take  a  hackney  coach 
and  return  to  my  factory.  What  can  we  do  till  dinner 
time  ?  Pace  the  streets  ?  As  for  our  host,  he  reminds  me 
of  a  goat  from  which  you  get  neither  wool  nor  milk." 

"  As  for  wool,  there'll  be  plenty,"  growled  Markelof  tes- 
tily. "  Goloushkine  has  promised  me  some  money.    Unless 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  121 

you  want  to  be  fastidious,  we  mustn't  be  too  particular 
under  the  circumstances." 

"  I'm  not  fastidious,  you  know  very  well,"  answered  Sol- 
omine  quietly.  "  But  I  must  ask  why  I  should  be  there. 
Nevertheless,"  he  added,  with  a  smiling  glance  at  Nesh- 
danof,  "  if  it  will  give  you  any  pleasure,  I'll  remain  ;  as  the 
proverb  says,  '  It  is  well  to  die  in  company.'  " 

Markelof  raised  his  head. 

"  Suppose  we  should  go  meanwhile  to  the  public  garden. 
It's  a  delightful  day  ;  we  can  look  at  the  people." 

"  All  right  ;   let's  go." 

They  started  off,  Markelof  and  Solomine  in  front,  and 
Neshdanof  behind. 


XVIII. 

NESHDANOF  was  in  a  strange  state  of  mind.  In  only 
two  days  he  had  received  so  many  new  impressions, 
and  seen  so  many  new  faces  !  For  the  first  time  in  his  hfe  he 
had  united  his  fate  with  that  of  a  young  girl,  with  whom,  ap- 
parently, he  was  in  love  ;  he  had  taken  the  first  steps  in  a  mat- 
ter to  which  apparently  he  had  consecrated  all  his  strength, 
and  in  short — was  he  happy  ?     No  ! 

Did  he  hesitate  ?  Was  he  afraid  ?  Did  he  feel  troubled  ? 
By  no  means. 

Did  he  feel  on  the  other  hand  that  tension  of  his  whole 
being,  that  impetus  which  carries  a  man  into  the  front  ranks 
of  the  combatants,  when  the  fight  is  hottest  ?     No  longer. 

Did  he,  in  short,  believe  in  this  undertaking  ?  Did  he 
believe  in  his  love  ?  "  Oh  !  cursed  dilettante  that  you 
are  !  skeptic  !  "  fell  from  his  lips.  Why  this  fatigue,  this 
reluctance  to  speak,  except  at  moments  when  he  forced 
himself  to  shout,  and  excited  himself  ?  What  was  this  in- 
ternal voice  which  he  tried  in  vain  to  stifle  by  his  shouts  ? 
And  Marianne,  this  good  and  faithful  friend,  this  pure 
strong  soul,  this  brave  young  girl,  she  loved  him  in  spite 
of  all !  Ought  he  not  to  esteem  himself  happy  to  have 
met  her,  to  have  won  her  friendship,  her  love  ?  And  the 
two  men  who  were  walking  in  front  of  him,  Markelof  and 
this  Solomine,  whom  he  hardly  knew,  but  for  whom  he  felt 
such  profound  sympathy,  were  they  not  very  good  repre- 
sentatives of  Russian  life,  and  was  not  their  acquaintance 
another  blessing  ?  Why  this  vague  sense  of  unhappiness  ? 
Why  this  sadness  ?  "  You're  a  dreamer  and  a  hypochon- 
driac," murmured  his  lips  again.  "  What  sort  of  a  radical 
are  you  ?  Write  your  little  verses,  stuff  yourself  away  in  a 
corner  with  your  little  thoughts  and  your  little,  miserable 
impressions,  bury  yourself  in  all  sorts  of  small  psychologi- 

122 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


123 


cal  subtleties,  and  above  all,  don't  go  and  imagine  that 
your  caprice,  your  sickly,  nervous  exasperation,  has  any- 
thing in  common  with  the  manly  indignation,  the  honest 
wrath  of  an  earnest  man  !  " 

"  O  Hamlet,  Prince  of  Denmark  !  how  to  escape  from 
your  shadow  !  How  avoid  imitating  you  in  everything, 
even  in  the  shameful  pleasure  one  has  in  abusing  oneself  !  " 

"  Alexis  !  my  friend  !  The  Russian  Hamlet  !  "  cried 
suddenly  like  ^n  echo  of  his  thoughts  a  shrill  and  well- 
known  voice.     "  Can  it  be  you  ?  " 

Neshdanof  raised  his  eyes  and  saw  before  him  Pakline — 
Pakline  in  the  costitme  of  a  Watteau  shepherd,  a  buff 
jacket,  no  cravat,  a  straw  hat,  with  sky-blue  ribbon  round 
it,  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  on  his  feet  shiny  shoes. 

Pakline  came  limping  up  to  Neshdanof  and  took  his  hand. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  he  said,  "  although  we  are  in  a  pub- 
lic garden,  we  must  throw  ourselves  into  each  other's  arms, 
according  to  the  old  custom,  and  kiss  each  other  thrice- 
one  !  two  !  three  !  Secondly,  know  that  if  I  had  not  met 
you  to-day,  you  would  have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  me 
to-morrow  as  large  as  life,  for  I  know  the  place  where  you 
are  staying,  and  I  came  to  this  town  on  purpose — but  you 
shall  know  all  that  later.  Thirdly,  make  me  acquainted 
with  your  new  friends.  Tell  me  in  two  words  who  they 
are,  and  them,  who  I  am,  after  which  nothing  will  be  want- 
ing to  our  felicity  !  " 

Neshdanof  complied  with  his  friend's  request,  introduced 
him  to  Markelof  and  Solomine,  and  then  told  who  each 
of  them  was,  where  he  lived,  what  he  did,  etc. 

"  Excellently  done  !  "  cried  Pakline.  "  And  now  per- 
mit me  to  conduct  you  far  from  the  crowd — although  there 
is  none,  by  the  way — to  a  solitary  bench  upon  which  I  am 
wont  to  install  myself  in  my  hours  of  reflection,  and  enjoy 
the  beauties  of  nature.  The  view  from  it  is  charming  ; 
you  can  see  the  governor's  house,  two  black  and  white 
striped  sentry-boxes,  three  policemen,  and  not  one  dog  ! 
Don't- be  too  much  surprised,  meanwhile,  at  the  nonsense 
with  which  I'm  trying  so  fruitlessly  to  inake  you  laugh. 
My  friends  affirm  that  I  represent  Russian  wit,  which  is 
doubtless  the  reason  why  I  limp  I  " 


124  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Paklinc  conducted  his  friends  to  the  "  solitary  bench," 
and  made  them  sit  down,  having  first  driven  two  beggars 
off  it.  The  young  people  "  exchanged  thoughts,"  a  tire- 
some occupation,  be  it  said,  especially  just  at  first,  and  a 
perfectly  useless  one. 

"  Wait !  "  exclaimed  Pakline,  suddenly  turning  to  Nesh- 
danof  ;  "  I  must  explain  to  you  how  I  happen  to  be  here  ; — 
you  know  that  every  summer  I  take  my  sister  off  somewhere 
or  other,  for  change  of  air,  and  when  I  learned  that  you 
were  going  to  live  in  the  neighborhood  of  this  town,  I  re- 
membered that  there  were  two  very  queer  people  here,  a 
husband  and  wife,  who  are  somewhat  related  to  us  through 
my  mother.  My  father  was  of  the  people  "  (Neshdanof 
knew  this  detail,  but  Pakline  mentioned  it  for  the  benefit 
of  the  others)  ;  "  my  mother  was  of  noble  birth,  and  we  had 
a  long  standing  invitation  to  make  a  visit  to  these  relations 
of  ours.  And  lo  !  we  started  off — and  here  we  are  !  And 
really,  you  can't  imagine  how  comfortably  off  we  are  here. 
But  what  creatures  they  are,  really  original  !  You  ought  to 
know  them.  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  Where  do  you 
dine  ?     And  what  have  you  come  for  ?  " 

"  We  dine  to-day  with  a  certain  Goloushkine — a  mer- 
chant," replied  Neshdanof. 

"  At  what  time  ?  " 

"At  three." 

"  And  you  came  to — in  order  to — " 

Pakline  glanced  at  Solomine,  who  smiled  at  Markelof, 
whose  face  darkened. 

"  But  come,  tell  them,  dear  Alexis — make  them  some 
masonic  sign  or  other  ;  tell  them  in  short  that  they  needn't 
be  on  their  guard  with  me.     Ain't  I  one  of  you  ?  " 

"  Goloushkine  is  also  one  of  us,"  said  Neshdanof. 

"  So  !  so  I  very  good  !  But  it  is  not  nearly  three  o'clock 
yet.     Come,  let's  go  to  my  cousin's." 

"  Are  you  losing  your  senses  ?  Would  you  have  us  go 
point  blank — " 

"  Don't  disturb  yourself !  Leave  everything  to  me. 
Imagine  an  oasis.  Neither  politics  nor  literature  nor  any- 
thing belonging  to  the  present  day  ever  penetrates  there. 
A  little  swell  front  house,  such  as  is  to  be  found  nowhere 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


125 


else  ;  the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  place  is  rococo  ;  the 
people  themselves  are  rococo  ;  the  very  air  which  you 
breathe  is  rococo  ;  ever}.-thing  you  see  is  rococo  ;  Catherine 
II.,  powder,  hoops,  the  eighteenth  century  personified  ! 
As  for  the  master  and  mistress  of  this  house — picture  to 
yourself  two  little  old  people,  very,  very  old  !  husband 
and  wife  !  of  the  same  age,  and  unwrinkled  ;  plump, 
round,  neat,  real  love-birds  ;  and  their  kindness  amounts 
to  folly,  to  saintliness — their  kindness  is  unlimited  !  You 
will  tell  me  that  unlimited  kindness  is  often  joined  to  a 
want  of  moral  sense  ;  but  I  can't  enter  into  those  subtle- 
ties. I  only  know  T5ne  thing,  that  my  little  old  couple  are 
the  very  best  of  good  people  !  They  have  never  had  any 
children — lucky  mortals  !  In  the  town,  they  are  called  the 
blessed,  or  the  fools,  or  the  innocents,  whichever  you 
prefer.  They  both  wear  the  same  costume :  a  striped 
cloak,  made  of  a  firm  material  not  found  elsewhere.  They 
are  astonishingly  alike  ;  the  only  difference  between  them 
is  that  she  wears  a  cap,  and  he  a  "  kolpak,"  with  ruffles 
like  those  on  the  cap,  but  without  a  bow  of  ribbon.  This 
ribbon  bow  is  the  only  thing  which  distinguishes  them  from 
each  other,  the  husband  having  no  beard.  He  is  called 
Fomoushka,*  and  she  Fimoushka.  I  assure  you  it  would 
be  worth  paying  to  see  them.  They  are  incredibly  fond 
of  each  other,  they  welcome  any  one  who  comes  to  see 
them,  and  play  off  all  their  graces  for  them  !  Only  one 
thing  is  prohibited  there,  and  that  is  smoking  ;  not  that  they 
are  raskolniks,t  but  they  detest  the  odor  of  tobacco.  In 
their  time  you  see  there  was  scarcely  any  smoking. 
Canaries  were  also  unknown  then,  so  they  have  none  in 
their  house,  and  that's  a  mercy,  don't  you  think  so  ?  Well, 
won't  you  come  ?  " 

"  But — I  don't  know — "  began  Neshdanof. 

"  Wait,  I've  not  told  you  all  yet.  Their  voices  are  so 
much  alike  that  if  you  shut  your  eyes  it  would  be  hard  to 
say  which  was  speaking.    There  is  a  shade  more  expression 

*  Fomoushka,  diminutive  of  Thomas,  and  Fimoushka,  diminutive 
of  Euphemia. —  Tr. 

\  Old  Believers,  who  have  a  horror  of  tobacco. 


126  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

in  Fomoushka's  voice ;  that's  all.  You,  gentlemen,  who 
are  preparing  yourselves  for  your  great  work,  why,  before 
plunging  into  the  roaring  torrent,  why  won't  you  go  and 
take  a  di^D  first  ? " 

"  In  stagnant  water  ?  "  interrupted  Markelof. 

**  And  what  of  that  ?  Stagnant  water  if  you  will,  but 
fresh  and  sweet.  There  are  ponds  of  that  sort  on  the 
steppes  whose  water  is  not  running,  it  is  true,  but  which  re- 
main clear  and  limpid  because  there  are  springs  of  fresh 
water  at  the  bottom.  Well,  my  little  old  couple  have  also 
at  the  bottom  of  their  hearts  hidden  springs  which  are  very, 
very  pure.  In  short,  if  you  would  know  how  people  used 
to  live  a  hundred  or  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  come 
with  me  without  further  delay.  For  there  will  come  a  day 
and  an  hour — necessarily  the  same  day  and  hour  for  them 
both — when  my  two  love-birds  will  fall  from  their  perch, 
and  all  the  past  will  die  with  them,  and  the  little  swell  front 
house  will  disappear,  and  in  its  place  will  grow  all  that 
springs  up  wherever  there  is  "human  nature,"  as  my  grand- 
mother says,  nettles,  burdock,  thistles,  wild  sorrel,  and 
wormwood  ;  the  street  even  will  cease  to  exist,  other  men 
will  come,  and  you  will  see  nothing  like  it  again  for  all 
time." 

"Well  !  "  exclaimed  Neshdanof,  "why  shouldn't  we  go 
there  now  ? " 

"  I  will  gladly  go,"  said  Solomine  ;  "  I've  no  business 
there,  but  it  would  be  curious  and  interesting  ;  and  if  Mr. 
Pakline  is  really  sure  that  our  arrival  will  disturb  no  one, 
why  not  ? " 

"  Do  come,"  said  Pakline  ;  "  they  will  be  absolutely  en- 
chanted to  see  you.  There's  no  need  of  ceremony,  since  I 
have  told  you  what  they  are  like.  We'll  make  them  sing 
to  us.     And  you,  Mr.  Markelof,  won't  you  come  too  ?  " 

Markelof  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  an  ill-humored  air. 

"  I  can't  stay  here  all  alone.  Come  on,  show  us  the 
way." 

The  young  people  arose  from  their  bench, 

"  What  a  somber  personage  you  have  there  !  "  whispered 
Pakline  to  Neshdanof,  pointing  to  Markelof.  "  He  looks 
to  me  like  St.  John  the  Baptist  when  he  was  living  on 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


127 


locusts — nothing  but  locusts  without  honey  !  The  other 
fellow,"  added  he,  nodding  toward  Solomine,  "  the  other 
one  pleases  me  hugely — what  a  smile  he  has  !  I've  never 
seen  that  smile  except  on  people  who  are  superior  to  others 
without  being  conscious  of  it." 

"  Are  there  any  such  people  ?  "  asked  Neshdanof. 

"  They're  scarce,  but  there  are  some,"  replied  Pakline. 


XIX. 

FOMOUSHKA  and  Fimoushka,  that  is  to  say,  Foma 
(Thomas)  Lawrentievitch  and  Evfimie  (Euphemia) 
Paulovna  Soubotchef,  who  both  belonged  by  birth  to  the 
pecuHarly  Russian /^///<?  noblesse,  were  almost  the  oldest  in- 
habitants of  the  town  of  S . 

Married  very  young,  they  established  themselves  in  the 
old  wooden  mansion  of  their  forefathers,  situated  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  town,  where  they  had  lived  from  time  im- 
memorial ;  they  never  went  on  journeys,  and  they  had  never 
changed  at  all  their  habits  or  mode  of  life.  Time  seemed 
to  stand  still  for  them  ;  no  "  novelty  "  ever  penetrated  into 
their  "  oasis." 

They  were  not  at  all  rich,  but  several  times  a  year  their 
peasants  came,  as  they  had  done  during  their  serfdom,  to 
bring  them  poultry  and  provisions  ;  on  a  certain  day  the 
starost  of  their  village  came  to  present  the  Obrok  *  and  a 
couple  of  grouse,  supposed  to  have  been  killed  in  their  mas- 
ters's  forest,  although,  in  reality,  the  forest  had  long  ceased 
to  exist ;  they  invited  the  starost  to  take  some  tea  in  the 
anteroom  ;  presented  him  with  an  astrachan  cap,  a  pair  of 
doeskin  gloves,  and  wished  him  a  pleasant  journey  home. 

Their  house  was  full  of  dvorovie  (domestic  servants),  ac- 
cording to  the  ancient  custom.  The  old  waiter,  Kallio- 
pitch,  dressed  in  a  jacket  with  standing  collar,  made  of 
very  thick  cloth,  and  buttoned  with  small  copper  buttons, 
announced,  as  he  had  always  been  accustomed  to  do,  with 
solemn  drawling  tones,  that  "  the  dinner  is  served,"  and 
went  to  sleep  behind  his  mistress's  chair.  He  had  charge  of 
the  sideboard,  and  administered  the  different  decanters  of 
"  cardamon  "  or  "  citron." 

*  Obrok,  annual  tribute  which  the  peasants  pay  their  masters. —  Tr. 

128 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  129 

When  he  was  asked  if  he  had  never  heard  of  the  freeing 
of  the  serfs,  he  invariably  repHed  that  there  was  a  great 
deal  of  stupid  gossip  in  the  world  ;  that  there  was  freedom 
among  the  Turks,  but  that  as  for  him,  thank  God,  he  had 
been  spared  that,  so  far. 

There  was  a  female  dwarf  in  the  establishment,  Poufka 
by  name,  kept  to  amuse  her  master  and  mistress.  The  aged 
housekeeper,  Vaxsilievna,  came  in  at  dinner-time,  with  a 
dark-colored  handkerchief  twisted  round  her  head,  and  in 
a  tremulous  Voice  talked  of  the  latest  news  :  of  Napoleon 
First,  of  the  war  of  181 2,  of  the  Antichrist,  of  albinos  ;  some- 
times in  a  despondent  attitude,  with  her  chin  resting  on  the 
palm  of  her  hand,  she  would  tell  her  dreams  and  interpret 
them  ;  she  would  also  relate  what  she  had  read  in  the 
cards. 

The  Soubotchefs'  very  house  was  different  from  all  the 
other  houses  of  the  town  ;  it  was  built  entirely  of  oak,  with 
windows  exactly  square,  which  were  double,  winter  and  sum- 
mer alike.  It  was  filled  with  all  sorts  of  little  rooms,  closets, 
corners,  and  cubby-holes,  ballustraded  flights  of  steps,  little 
shelves  for  beds,  supported  by  tiny  columns  of  turned  wood, 
dark  closets,  and  corridors. 

In  front  of  the  house  there  was  an  inclosure,  behind  it  a 
garden,  and  this  garden  was  all  full  of  barns,  outhouses 
for  rubbish,  coach-houses,  cellars,  and  ice-houses,  a  regular 
nest  in  short.  These  buildings  were  not  very  well  fitted 
up,  some  were  even  in  ruins  ;  but  they  were  left  untouched, 
because  they  were  old. 

The  Soubotchefs  had  only  two  horses,  both  extremely  old 
and  very  rough-coated  and  sway-backed  ;  one  was  so  old 
that  he  was  covered  with  patches  of  white  hair,  and  was 
called  the  Immovable.  They  were  harnessed,  once  a  month 
at  the  most,  to  a  strange  vehicle,  well  known  to  the  whole 
town,  which  looked  very  like  a  globe  with  the  front  quarter 
cut  out ;  it  was  lined  with  yellow  stuff  of  foreign  make, 
covered  with  little  tufts,  the  size  of  peas,  which  looked  like 
warts.  The  last  piece  of  this  stuff  was  probably  woven  at 
Utrecht  or  Lyons,  in  the  time  of  the  Empress  Elizabeth. 

The  coachman,  worthy  man,  was  also  extraordinarily  old, 
and  saturated  with  an  odor  of  greasy  leather  and  tar ;  his 


l^o  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

beard  grcAv  up  to  his  eyes,  and  his  eyebrows  fell  in  little 
cascades  down  to  his  beard.  He  was  so  slow  in  his  move- 
ments that  it  took  him  five  good  minutes  to  take  a  pinch  of 
snuff,  two  minutes  to  stick  his  whip  into  his  belt,  and  more 
than  two  hours  to  harness  the  Immovable.  He  was  called 
Pufishka  withal.* 

\Vhen  the  Soubotchefs  were  out  driving  and  there  was 
the  least  ascent,  they  were  seized  with  fright  (it  was  just 
the  same  way  down  hill)  ;  they  grasped  the  straps  with  both 
hands  and  recited  aloud  a  sort  of  incantation,  "  May  the 
horses,  the  horses,  have  the  strength  of  Samson  !  May  we, 
we,  be  as  light  as  feathers  !  " 

The  whole  town  looked  upon  them  as  eccentric,  almost 
mad  in  fact.  They  themselves  were  well  aware  that  they 
did  not  follow  the  customs  of  to-day  ;  but  that  troubled 
them  very  little.  They  lived  absolutely  according  to  the 
fashion  of  the  time  when  they  were  born,  or  when  they 
grew  up,  or  when  they  were  married.  On  one  point  only 
they  departed  from  the  old  customs  :  never,  on  any  ac- 
count, had  they  prosecuted  or  punished  any  one.  When 
one  of  their  people  was  convicted  of  being  a  drunkard,  or 
a  downright  thief,  they  bore  it  long  and  patiently — as  one 
endures  bad  weather— before  making  up  their  minds  to  get 
rid  of  him,  to  find  him  a  place  with  some  one  else.  "  Let 
every  one  take  their  turn,"  they  would  say.  "  It  is  time 
some  one  else  should  bear  with  him,  now." 

But  this  misfortune  rarely  befell  them  ;  so  rarely  that, 
when  it  did  occur,  it  made  an  epoch  in  their  lives.  They 
would  say,  for  instance,  "  That  was  a  long  time  ago  ;  that 
was  when  we  had  that  troublesome  fellow  Aldoshka ;  "  or, 
again,  "  at  the  time  when  the  fur  cap  with  a  fox's  brush, 
which  had  belonged  to  our  grandfather,  was  stolen."  At 
the  Soubotchefs'  caps  of  that  sort  were  still  to  be  found. 

There  was  still  another  trait  characteristic  of  the  man- 
ners of  former  times,  which  was  lacking  in  them  :  neither 
Fomoushka  or  Fimoushka  were  very  religious.  Fomoushka 
piqued  himself  on  being  a  follower  of  Voltaire  ;  and  Fi- 
moushka was  mortally  afraid  of  priests,  whom  she  thought 

*  Diminutive  of  Porphyrias. —  Tr. 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


131 


had  the  evil  eye.  "  A  priest  has  been  to  see  me,"  she  would 
say.    "  He  did  not  stay  long,  but  the  cream  has  turned  sour." 

They  rarely  went  to  church ;  and  only  fasted  as  Cath- 
olics do,  who  allow  themselves  milk,  butter,  and  eggs.  This 
was  known  in  the  town,  and  their  reputation  was,  of  course, 
not  much  improved  by  it.  But  it  was  impossible  to  with- 
stand their  kindness  ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  unsparing  rail- 
lery of  which  they  were  the  objects,  in  spite  of  their  being 
called  "  innocents,"  they  were  respected  by  everybody. 

Yes,  they  were  respected,  but  were  not  visited,  which  did 
not  disturb  them  much,  however.  They  were  never  tired  of 
each  other,  and  thejefore  were  constantly  together,  wishing 
for  no  other  society. 

Neither  Fomoushka  or  Fimoushka,  had  ever  been  ill, 
and  if  either  of  them  felt  in  the  least  indisposed,  they  both 
took  an  infusion  of  linden  leaves,  or  rubbed  their  backs 
with  warm  oil,  or  poured  melted  fat  upon  the  soles  of  their 
feet,  and  the  indisposition  was  promptly  cured. 

Their  day's  programme  never  varied  ;  they  rose  late, 
took  their  morning  chocolate  in  little  cups,  shaped  like 
mortars.  "  Tea,"  they  would  say,  "was  not  the  fashion  in 
our  day."  They  sat  opposite  one  another  and  conversed 
(they  were  never  at  a  loss  for  subjects),  or  read  the 
''Agreeable  Fasiime,"  the  '' Mirror  of  the  World;'  "  The 
Aonides"  or  turned  the  leaves  of  an  old  album  bound  in 
red  morocco,  and  edged  with  gilt,  which,  according  to  an 
inscription  on  the  fly-leaf,  had  formerly  belonged  to  a  cer- 
tain Madame  Barbe  de  Kabiline.  When  and  how  this  album 
had  fallen  into  their  hands,  they  themselves  had  forgotten. 

This  album  contained  some  French  poetry,  and  several 
Russian  poems  or  prose  articles,  of  which  the  following 
short  reflection  upon  Cicero  may  give  an  idea  ;  in  what 
disposition  of  mind  Cicero  accepted  the  position  of  quKstor 
he  himself  explains  as  follows  : 

"  Having  called  upon  the  gods  to  bear  witness  to  the  purity  of  his 
sentiments  in  all  the  positions  with  which  he  had  been  honored,  so 
far,  he  considered  himself  bound  by  the  most  sacred  bonds  to  fdl 
worthily  the  aforesaid  positions  of  trust  ;  and  in  this  intention  he 
would  not  only  resist  all  temptation  to  unlawful  pleasures,  but  he 
would  even  avoid  with  extreme  care  those  amusements  which  seemed 
almost  indispensable." 


132  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Lower  down  on  the  page  were  these  words  : 

"Written  in  Siberia,  amid  the  pangs  of  cold  and  hunger." 

There  Avas  also  a  very  curious  poem  entitled  Tircis,  in 
which  were  to  be  found  such  verses  as  the  following : 

"  The  universe  is  steeped  in  calm, 
The  dew  sparkles  prettily, 
It  caresses  and  refreshes  nature, 
And  gives  it  new  life. 

"  Tircis  alone,  with  soul  oppressed. 
Suffers  self-inflicted  torture. 
When  the  lovely  Annette  is  not  with  him 
Nothing  can  cheer  his  melancholy." 

And  some  important  verses  written  by  a  soldier  on  the 
"  1 6th  day  of  May,  1790  "  : 

"  I  shall  never  forget  thee, 
Oh,  thou  charming  spot ! 
I  shall  forever  remember 
The  days  which  have  passed  so  agreeably. 
The  days  which  I  have  had  the  honor 
Of  spending  with  thy  owners 
In  this  most  respectable  circle, 
With  many  matrons,  and  young  ladies, 
And  many  other  interesting  persons." 

The  last  page  of  the  album  contained,  besides  poetry, 
recipes  of  remedies  for  stomach  ache,  spasms,  etc.,  and  even 
an  excellent  vermifuge. 

The  Soubotchefs  dined  at  noon  precisely,  and  only  ate 
old-fashioned  dishes  :  buttermilk  fritters,  sour  soup  with 
cucumbers,  mincemeat  with  cream  and  garlic,  buckwheat 
porridge,  fish  pie,  chicken  ati  safran,  mint  with  honey, 
etc.  After  dinner  they  took  a  nap,  never  more  than  an 
hour  long,  then  waked  up  to  sit  opposite  one  another  and 
drink  whortleberry  water,  or  a  sort  of  effervescent  lemon- 
ade, which  generally  all  went  off  in  foam,  to  their  great 
amusement,  and  to  the  great  annoyance  of  Kalliopitch, 
who  had  to  wipe  it  off  from  everything,  and  grumbled  long 
against  the  housekeeper  and  the  cook,  who  had  invented 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


^Z^ 


thii  drink.  "What's  it  good  for?  "  he  would  say,  "  except 
to  spoil  the  furniture  ?  " 

After  this,  the  Soubotchefs  would  amuse  themselves 
with  more  reading,  or  with  laughing  at  the  dwarf  Poufka, 
or  would  sing  together  some  old  songs  (their  voices  were 
precisely  alike,  high,  feeble,  uncertain,  and  even  somewhat 
hoarse,  especially  after  they  had  taken  their  nap,  but  not 
disagreeable  on  the  whole)  ;  sometimes  they  played 
cards,  but  always  at  old-fashioned  games,  such  as  the  crab 
or  the  flag,  of  even  Boston. 

Then  the  samovar  made  its  appearance  ;  they  took  tea 
in  the  evening ;  tlj.is  was  the  only  concession  they  made 
to  the  spirit  of  the  age  ;  but  they  repeated  every  day  that 
it  was  a  weakness,  and  that  to  the  use  of  this  Chinese  herb 
was  in  great  measure  due  the  physical  deterioration  of 
the  people. 

Generally  they  refrained  from  blaming  the  present  or 
praising  the  past  ;  they  had  always  lived  in  the  same  man- 
ner from  childhood  upwards  ;  but  so  long  as  they  were 
not  obliged  to  change,  they  were  quite  willing  to  con- 
cede that  other  people  might  live  differently,  and  even 
better. 

At  eight  o'clock  Kalliopitch  served  the  supper,  with  the 
inevitable  okroshka*  and  at  nine  the  large  feather  beds 
received  into  their  soft  embrace  the  plump  little  bodies  of 
Fomoushka  and  Fimoushka,  and  peaceful  slumber  soon 
descended  upon  their  eyehds.  All  noise  died  gradually 
away  in  the  little  old  house,  the  lamp  burned  before  the 
images,  a  vague  odor  of  musk  and  of  bahn  floated  in  the 
air,  the  cricket  sang,  and  the  cheery  innocent  little  couple 
slept  in  peace. 

Such  Avere  these  mad  people,  or  as  Pakline  called  them, 
these  "  love-birds,"  who  had  given  shelter  to  his  sister,  and 
to  whose  house  he  conducted  his  friends. 

Pakline's  sister  was  an  intelligent  girl  and  rather  pretty, 
— her  eyes  in  particular  were  magnificent — but  her  unfor- 
tunate deformity  deprived  her  of  all  grace,  all  gayety,  and 
made  her  suspicious  and  almost  ill-tempered.      Moreover, 

*  A  little  flask  containinrr  some  small  beer. 


134 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


she  had  a  very  singular  first  name  :  she  was  called  Snan- 
doulia  !  Her  brother  tried  to  rebaptize  her  Sophie,  but  she 
obstinately  preferred  to  keep  her  odd  name,  saying  that  a 
person  who  was  hunch-backed  ought  to  be  called  Snan- 
doulia. 

She  was  a  good  musician,  and  played  the  piano  quite 
well. 

''  That's  because  of  my  spider  fingers,"  she  would  say,  not 
without  bitterness,  "  the  fingers  of  a  hunchback." 

The  four  visitors  arrived  just  as  Fomoushka  and 
Fimoushka  had  taken  their  siesta,  and  were  about  to  drink 
their  whortleberry  water. 

"  Here  we  enter  the  eighteenth  century  !  "  cried  Pakline, 
as  they  stepped  over  the  threshold  of  the  house. 

And  in  fact  the  eighteenth  century  met  their  eyes  in  the 
anteroom,  in  the  shape  of  a  little  screen,  on  the  blue 
ground  of  which  were  pasted  black  silhouettes  of  ladies  and 
gentlemen  with  their  hair  dressed  in  the  fashion  of  the  last 
century. 

These  silhouettes,  introduced  by  Lavater,  were  very  much 
the  rage  in  Russia  about  1780. 

The  unexpected  appearance  of  so  many  strangers — three 
at  once  ! — made  quite  a  commotion  in  this  little  establish- 
ment, where  visitors  were  such  a  rarity.  Then  might  be 
heard  the  coming  and  going  of  bare  feet  and  of  heavy  boots, 
faces  peeped  in  and  quickly  vanished,  a  door  slammed, 
some  one  groaned,  some  one  else  burst  out  laughing,  and  a 
scolding  voice  whispered  : 

"  Go  to  the  devil  !  " 

At  last  Kalliopitch  appeared  with  his  eternal  jacket,  and 
holding  open  the  door  of  the  "salon,"  announced  with  so- 
norous voice  : 

"  Mr.  Sila  Simonitch  and  some  other  gentlemen  !  "  The 
master  and  mistress  were  much  less  disturbed  than  their 
servants.  The  irruption  of  four  tall  young  fellows  into 
their  drawing-room,  quite  a  large  one,  by  the  way,  rather 
surprised  them,  it  is  true  ;  but  Pakline  at  once  reassured 
them,  and  in  his  usual  joking  fashion  presented  the  three 
new-comers  in  succession  as  quiet  people  having  no  con- 
nection with  "  the  crown." 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  •  135 

Fomoushka  and  Fimoushka  had  a  special  dislike  for 
people  belonging  to  "  the  crown,"  that  is,  for  government 
employees. 

Snandoulia,  whose  brother  had  called  her,  soon  made 
her  appearance  ;  she  was  much  more  agitated  and  em- 
barrassed than  the  old  Soubotchefs.  They,  with  one  voice 
and  in  the  same  words,  begged  their  guests  to  be  seated, 
and  asked  them  what  they  would  have,  tea,  chocolate,  or 
perhaps  soda-water  and.  sweetmeats  ?  But  learning  that 
their  visitors  wished  nothing,  having  just  breakfasted 
at  the  house  of  a  merchant  named  Goloushkine,  with  whom 
they  were  to  dine^they  no  longer  insisted,  but  crossing 
their  little  arms  on  their  little  chests  in  precisely  the  same 
way,  they  began  to  talk  and  to  fulfill  their  duty  as  hosts. 

The  conversation  languished  somewhat  at  first,  but  it 
soon  became  more  animated.  Pakline  greatly  amused  the 
two  old  people  with  a  well-known  anecdote  of  Gogol, 
about  a  general  who  easily  made  his  way  into  a  church 
crowded  full  of  people,  because  he  was  a  general ;  and  of  a 
pie  so  powerful  that  it  found  its  way  into  a  stomach  stuffed 
as  full  as  the  church  ! 

This  story  made  them  laugh  till  they  cried.  Their 
laugh  was  in  keeping  with  all  the  rest  of  them,  shrill, 
squeaky,  jerky,  and  ending  in  a  cough  with  red,  warm 
faces. 

Pakline  had  noticed  that  people  like  the  Soubotchefs  are 
strongly  and  almost  convulsively  affected  by  quotations 
from  Gogol  ;  but  as  his  intention  was  less  to  entertain  the 
two  old  people  themselves  than  to  show  them  off  to  his 
companions,  he  changed  his  method  of  attack,  and  man- 
aged so  well  that  in  a  very  short  time  the  couple  took 
courage  and  entered  fairly  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing. 

Fomoushka  took  from  his  pocket  and  showed  to  his 
visitors  his  favorite  snuff-box,  on  which  could  be  counted 
thirty-six  human  figures  in  different  attitudes  ;  all  these 
figures  had  been  long  ago  effaced  by  rubbing,  but  Fo- 
moushka saw  them  still ;  he  saw  them  ;  he  could  count 
them  one  after  another  and  point  them  out. 

"  See,"  he  said,  "  there's  somebody  looking  out  of  a 
window.     Do  you  see  ?     He's  sticking  out  his  head." 


136  VIRGIN  SOU. 

And  the  place  to  which  he  pointed  with  the  end  of  his 
little  crooked  forefinger  was  as  smooth  as  all  the  rest  of 
the  cover. 

Then  he  called  his  guest's  attention  to  an  oil  painting 
hanging  above  his  head  on  the  wall  behind  him,  which  rep- 
resented a  profile  view  of  a  huntsman,  on  a  light  bay  horse, 
galloping  across  a  snowy  plain.  The  huntsman  wore  a  tall 
white  sheepskin  cap  with  a  blue  streamer,  a  camel's  hair 
tunic,  bordered  with  velvet  and  gathered  in  at  the  waist  by 
a  belt  made  of  gilt-metal  plates  ;  an  embroidered  silk  glove 
was  thrust  through  his  belt,  and  a  poignard,  with  inlaid  sil- 
ver handle,  hung  at  one  side.  The  huntsman,  who  looked 
young  and  plump,  held  in  one  hand  an  enormous  horn, 
decorated  with  gold  tassels  ;  in  the  other  he  held  the  reins 
and  a  whip  ;  the  horse's  four  feet  were  all  in  the  air  at 
once,  and  the  artist  had  carefully  painted  the  four  horse- 
shoes, not  forgetting  the  nails. 

"  Observe,"  said  Fomoushka,  pointing  out  with  the  same 
dimpled  finger  four  semicircular  marks  in  the  white 
ground  behind  the  horse's  feet ;  "  observe  the  foot-marks 
in  the  snow  !     He  has  forgotten  nothing  !  " 

Why  there  were  only  four  of  these  marks,  and  why  there 
were  no  others  behind  them,  was  a  point  which  Fomoush- 
ka passed  over  in  silence. 

"  That  huntsman — is  myself  !  "  added  he  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation,  with  a  modestly  complacent  smile. 

"  What  !  "  exclaimed  Neshdanof,  "  you  have  been  a 
hunter  ?  " 

"  Yes — but  not  for  a  long  time.  Once  while  in  full 
gallop,  I  was  thrown  over  my  horse's  head,  and  was  wounded 
on  the  kourpei.  So  that  Fimoushka  had  a  terrible  fright, 
and  forbade  my  hunting,  so  that  was  the  end  of  it." 

"  Where  did  you  say  you  hurt  yourself  ?  "  asked  Nesh- 
danof. 

"  On  the  kourpei,''  repeated  Fimoushka  in  low  tones. 

The  visitors  looked  at  each  otlier  without  saying  anything. 
They  did  not  at  all  know  what  this  word  meant.  Markelof 
indeed  knew  that  the  plume  on  a  cossack  cap,  or  tcherkesse, 
is  called  kourpei,  but  how  could  Fomoushka  have  wounded 
himself  on  that  plume  ?  And  no  one  had  the  courage  to 
ask  him  for  an  explanation. 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


m 


"  Oh  !  how  you  are  showing  off  !  "  suddenly  exclaimed 
Fimouska.     "  It's  my  turn  now  !  " 

She  opened  a  little  '"''  bonheur  dujoiir"  for  so  was  called 
a  sort  of  antique  secretary,  whose  rounded  cover  when 
raised  slipped  back  into  a  groove — and  took  from  it  a 
water-color  miniature  in  an  oval  bronze  frame  ;  this  minia- 
ture represented  a  child  four  years  old,  entirely  naked, 
with  a  quiver  slung  crosswise  over  its  shoulders  by  a  blue 
ribbon  ;  it  held  in  its  hand  an  arrow,  the  point  of  which 
it  was  feeling  with  its  fingers.  The  child's  hair  was  very 
curly,  and  it  smiled  with  a  slight  squint. 

Fimoushka  showed  the  water-color  to  the  young  people. 

"  This  is  I  !  "  said  she. 

"  You  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I — when  I  was  little.  There  was  a  French  painter, 
an  excellent  artist,  who  used  to  visit  my  parents  ;  he  made 
this  portrait  of  me  for  a  birthday  gift  to  my  late  father. 
Oh,  what  a  pleasant  man  that  Frenchman  was  !  He  came 
to  see  us  several  times  after  that.  When  he  came  into  a 
room,  he  would  draw  back  his  foot  with  a  gliding  motion, 
then  he  would  shake  it  a  minute  in  the  air,  and  kiss  your 
hand  !  And  when  he  took  leave  he  would  kiss  his  own 
hand,  upon  my  word  !  and  he  would  bow  to  right  and  to 
left,  before  and  behind  !  That  Frenchman  was  a  very 
charming  man." 

They  all  praised  the  picture,  and  Pakline  even  declared 
that  it  was  still  a  striking  likeness. 

In  this  connection  Fomoushka  spoke  of  the  French  of 
to-day,  and  said  that  they  must  have  become  very  wicked. 

"  Why  so,  Foma  Lawrentievitch  ?  "  some  one  asked  him. 

"  Why  ?     Just  see  what  names  they  have  !  " 

"  For  instance  ?  " 

"  For  instance  :  Nojang-Sang-Lorrang  [Nogent- Saint- 
Laurent)  ;  that's  a  regular  bandit's  name  !  " 

Fomoushka  also  asked  the  name  of  the  present  sovereign 
of  France.     They  told  him  "  Napoleon." 

That  appeared  to  surprise  and  sadden  him. 

"What  !  As  old  a  man  as  that  ?  "  he  began.  But  he  in- 
terrupted himself  and  looked  about  with  an  anxious  air. 

He  knew  very  little  French,  only  having  read  Voltaire 


138  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

in  translation  (he  had  in  a  favorite  little  box  under  his  pil- 
low a  manuscript  translation  of  ''^Candidc  "),  but  he  occasion- 
ally let  fall  a  i)hrase  such  as  ^^  fausse  panjuet "  (in  the 
sense  of  "  that  is  suspicious  "  or  "  questionable  "),  an  ex- 
pression for  which  he  was  much  ridiculed,  until  one  day 
a  very  learned  Frenchman  explained  that  it  was  an  old 
parliamentary  term  much  used  in  France  before  1789. 

Taking  advantage  of  the  conversation  turning  upon 
France  and  the  French,  Fimoushka  decided  to  clear  up  a 
doubtful  point  which  had  been  much  in  her  mind  of  late. 
She  first  thought  of  asking  Markelof,  but  he  looked  at  her 
in  such  a  grave  way  !  Solomine  was  less  alarming — "  but 
no!  "  she  said  to  herself,  "  he  looks  like  a  common  man,  it's 
not  likely  that  he  knows  French  !  "  She  addressed  Nesh- 
danof  : 

"  I  would  like  to  ask  you — "  she  began,  " — excuse  me, 
but  my  cousin  here,  Sila  Simonitch,  is  always  making  fun 
of  me,  poor  old  woman  that  I  am,  because  of  my  ignor- 
ance— " 

''Ask,  I  beg  of  you." 

"  This  is  what  it  is  :  if  a  person  wishes  to  employ  the 
French  '  dialect '  to  ask  what  something  is,  ought  they  to 
say,  *  QifSa — ^uire — ^^ue — ce/ii  ?'  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  could  you  also  say,  '  Qucce — que — cHa  ?  '  " 

*'  Certainly." 

"  Or  merely,  'Que  cHa  ?  '  " 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"  And  all  mean  the  same  thing  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Fimoushka  reflected  a  moment,  and  then  made  a  gesture 
of  resignation. 

"  Well,  Sila,"  she  said  at  length,  "  I  was  wrong  and  you 
were  right.    But  certainly  the  French  are  a  singular  people." 

Pakline  then  begged  the  two  old  people  to  sing  a  little 
romance.  They  both  began  to  laugh  and  were  surprised 
that  he  should  have  thought  of  such  a  thing  ;  but  they  were 
soon  persuaded  to  do  so  on  condition  that  Snandoulia 
should  go  to  the  clavichord  and  play  an  accompaniment. 
She  already  knew  what. 


VIRGIN  SOU.  139 

There  was  a  little  old  clavichord  in  one  comer  of  the 
room  which  the  guests  had  not  noticed.  Snandoulia  seated 
herself  before  it,  and  struck  a  few  chords.  This  clavichord 
gave  forth  such  poor,  thin,  weak,  tinkling  sounds,  Nesh- 
danof  had  never  heard  anything  like  it  before  in  his  life  ; 
but  they  soon  struck  up  their  little  romance, 

"  Is  it  to  find  sorrow  ?  " 

began  Fornou§hka : 

"  Sorrow  in  love, 
That  we  have  received  from  the  gods 
A  heart iapable  of  loving?  " 

Fimoushka  continued  : 

"  Exists  there  anywhere  on  the  earth 
The  feeling  of  love 
Without  sorrow,  without  suffering  ?  " 

Fomoushka  replied  : 

' '  Nowhere,  nowhere,  nowhere  ! " 

and  Fimoushka  repeated  : 

"  Nowhere,  nowhere,  nowhere  !  " 

Then  both  together  : 

"  Love  abides  with  suffering 
Everywhere,  everywhere,  everywhere  !  " 

and  Fomoushka  repeated  as  a  solo  : 

"  Everywhere,  everywhere,  everywhere  ! " 

"  Bravi !  "  replied  Pakline  ;  "  let  us  have  another  verse  !  " 

"Very  well,"  replied  Fomoushka  ;  "but  stop  a  minute  ; 
Snandoulia  Samsonovna,  what  became  of  the  trill  ?  After 
my  reply  there  ought  to  be  a  trill." 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Snandoulia,  "  I'll  make  a  trill 
for  you." 

Fomoushka  began : 

"  Is  there  any  one  in  the  universe. 

Who  has  loved  without  suffering  tortures, 

Who  has  ever  loved 

Without  weeping  and  groaning?" 


I40 


and  Fimoushka 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


"  If  tlic  heart  must  be  overwhelmed  by  sorrow, 
As  a  boat  by  the  ocean  waves, 
Why  was  it  given  to  us 
To  suffer,  suffer,  suffer  ?  " 

cried  Fomoushka  ;  then  he  stopped  to  give  SnandouHa  the 
time  to  make  her  trill.  After  which  Fimoushka  took  it  up 
again  : 

"  To  suffer,  suffer,  suffer  !  " 

and  both  in  unison  : 

"  Ye  gods,  take  back  my  heart, 
I  want  it  no  more,  more,  more  ! " 

and  the  couplet  was  completed  by  another  trill. 

"  Bravi !  bravi !  "  cried  all  present — except  Markelof — 
clapping  their  hands. 

While  the  applause  gradually  died  away,  Neshdanof 
asked  himself  : 

"  Is  it  possible  that  these  people  don't  understand  that 
they  are  playing  the  part  of  buffoons,  or  something  very 
like  it  ?  Probably  they  do  not,  or  perhaps  they  feel  it  and 
say  to  themselves,  '  What  difference  does  it  make  ?  we  do 
no  one  any  harm,  and  we  entertain  our  guests  ! '  And  in 
fact  they  are  right  after  all,  perfectly  right." 

Under  the  influence  of  this  thought  he  at  once  began  to 
pay  them  warm  compliments,  in  answer  to  which  they 
bowed  low  but  without  rising  from  their  arm-chairs. 

At  this  moment  the  door  of  a  neighboring  room — a 
sleeping  chamber  or  servants'  room  whence  for  some  min- 
utes past  had  issued  sounds  of  whispering — opened  quickly 
and  admitted  the  dwarf  Poufka,  accompanied  by  the  old 
housekeeper  Vassilievna.  The  dwarf  began  to  squawk  and 
make  grimaces,  while  the  old  servant  sometimes  stopped 
her,  and  sometimes  inspired  her  to  fresh  efforts. 

Markelof,  who  for  a  long  time  had  given  signs  of  im- 
patience (Solomine  confined  himself  to  smiling  rather 
more  than  usual),  turned  suddenly  upon  Fomoushka. 

"  I  should  never  have  imagined,"  he  began,  "  that  you, 
with  your  cultivated  mind,  and  your  admiration  of   Vol- 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  141 

taire,  of  which  I  have  been  told,  could  divert  yourself  with 
a  thing  which  should  inspire  pity,  in  a  word  with  a  de- 
formity !  " 

Then  he  remembered  that  Pakline's  sister  was  deformed, 
and  stopped  speaking.  Fomoushka  blushed  like  a  child, 
arranged  his  cap  on  his  head,  stammered,  "  What  ?  it  is 
not  I  !  it  is  she  herself." 

But  here  Poufka  charged  down  upon  Markelof. 

"  Who  told  you  to  come  and  insult  my  master  ?  "  she 
sputtered.  "You're  jealous  because  they've  taken  me  in 
and  fed  and  cared  {ox  me,  poor  unfortunate  creature  that 
I  am.  You  grudg^people  their  good  luck  !  Where  did 
you  come  from,  you  black-faced  good-for-naught,  with 
your  beetle  mustaches  ? " 

While  saying  this  she  imitated  with  her  thick  short 
fingers  Markelof's  mustaches.  Vassilievna  burst  out 
laughing,  stretching  her  toothless  mouth  from  ear  to  ear, 
and  her  laugh  was  echoed  in  the  next  room. 

"  I'm  not  criticising  you,  you  know,"  continued  Mark- 
elof, still  addressing  Fomoushka  ;  "  it  is  certainly  a  good 
work  to  give  shelter  to  the  poor  and  needy.  But  let  me  tell 
you  that  I  think  that  to  have  all  you  want — to  live  in  clover, 
not  plundering  any  one,  but  at  the  same  time  not  lifting 
your  finger  to  help  your  nei-ghbor,  is  not  being  good  ;  for 
my  part,  at  least,  to  speak  frankly,  I  would  not  give  a  pin 
for  such  goodness  ! " 

Wheieupon  Poufka  set  up  a  deafening  howl.  She  had 
not  caught  one  word  of  Markelof's  speech,  but  she  under- 
st®od  that  this  "black-faced"  fellow  was  abusing  her 
master  and  mistress.     The  impudent  creature  ! 

Vassilievna  also  muttered  something  with  an  angry  look. 
As  for  Fomoushka  he  crossed  his  arms  on  his  chest  and 
turning  to  his  wife  said,  almost  in  tears  : 

"  Fomoushka,  my  love,  do  you  hear  what  our  guest  has 
just  said  ?  You  and  I  are  sinners,  wicked  people,  Pharisees, 
we  live  in  clover  !  It  is  our  duty  to  go  out  into  the  streets 
broom  in  hand,  and  earn  our  own  living  ;  oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  " 

Hearing  these  sad  words,  Poufka  howled  louder  than 
ever,  and  Fimoushka,  with  her  eyes  half  shut  and  lips  drawn 
in,  took  a  long  breath,  preparatory  to  a  lamentable  groan. 


142  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Heaven  knows  how  the  matter  would  have  ended  if  Pak- 
line  had  not  interfered. 

"  What's  all  this  ? "  said  he,  waving  his  hand  with  a  loud 
laugh.  "  Aren't  you  ashamed  ?  Mr.  Markelof  intended  a 
little  joke,  but  as  he  has  a  very  serious  face,  his  jest  seemed 
like  sober  earnest.  And  you  were  taken  in  by  it  !  But 
it  was  not  so  at  all  !  My  good  little  Euphemia  Paulovna, 
it  will  soon  be  time  for  us  to  go,  and  do  you  know  what 
you  must  do  for  us  in  the  meantime  ?  You  must  tell  our 
fortunes — you  tell  them  so  well  !  Come,  Snandoulia,  get 
the  cards." 

Fimoushka  cast  a  look  at  her  husband,  and  seeing  him 
sitting  as  usual,  having  regained  his  customary  calm,  she 
also  was  quieted. 

"The  cards,  the  cards,"  she  said;  "but  I'm  afraid  I 
have  forgotten  how,  my  dear  !  It's  so  long  since  I've  had 
the  cards  in  my  hands  !  " 

And  she  took  from  Snandoulia  a  very  old  pack  of  cards, 
an  ombre  pack. 

"  Whose  fortune  shall  I  tell  ?  " 

"  All  our  fortunes  !  "  cried  Pakline,  and  added  to  him- 
self :  "  What  a  dear  little  thing  she  is,  you  can  twist  her 
round  your  finger  ;  it's  delightful  !  All  our  fortunes,  granny, 
all  !  "  he  repeated  aloud.  "  Tell  us  our  destiny,  character, 
future, — everything  !  " 

Fimoushka  began  to  deal  out  the  cards,  but  all  of  a  sudden 
she  threw  down  the  pack  on  the  table. 

"  What's  the  use  of  cards  ?  I've  no  need  of  them  to 
know  the  character  of  each  one  of  you  !  And  what  the 
character  is,  the  destiny  is.  He  "  (and  she  pointed  to  Solo- 
mine)  "  is  constant  and  a  man  whom  it  is  refreshing  to 
meet ;  he  "  (she  threatened  Markelof  with  her  finger)  "  is  a 
dangerous,  volcanic  man."  Poufka  stuck  out  her  tongue  at 
Markelof  ;  "  as  for  you  "  (she  looked  at  Pakline),  "  there's 
no  need  for  me  to  tell  you  what  you  are,  you're  a  hare- 
brained fellow.  He — "  she  pointed  to  Neshdanof,  and 
then  hesitated. 

"  What  ?  "  he  asked  ;  "  speak,  I  beg  of  you  :  what  sort  of 
a  man  am  I  ?  " 

"  What  sort  of  man  are  you  !  "  said  Fimoushka  slowly  • 


VIRGIN  SOU. 


143 


"  you're  a  man  who  is  worthy  of  pity.  That  is  what  you 
are." 

Neshdanof  winced. 

"  Worthy  of  pity  !     Why  so  ? "      _ 

"  Merely  because  you  excite  my  pity,  that's  all." 

"  But  why  ? " 

"  Because  my  eyes  tell  me  so.  Do  you  suppose  I'm  stu- 
pid ?  I'm  as  clever  as  you,  in  spite  of  your  red  hair.  You 
excite  my  compassion  :  that's  j^our  fortune." 

All  were  silent  and  looked  at  one  another  without 
speaking. 

"  Well,  good-by,,  my  friends  !  "  cried  Pakline.  "  We 
have  been  here  a  long  time  and  I  am  afraid  we  have  bored 
you.  -These  gentlemen  must  go  now,  and  I  must  go  too. 
Good-by,  and  many  thanks  for  your  kind  reception  of  us." 

"  Good-by,  good-by,  come  to  see  us  again  and  don't  for- 
get us,"  said  Fomoushka  and  Fimoushka,  with  one  voice. 

Then  Fomoushka  intoned  the  words  of  the  liturgy  : 
"  Many,  many,  many  years." 

"  Many,  many,"  repeated  Kalliopitch,  in  a  low  tone, 
while  opening  the  door  for  the  young  people. 

And  all  four  found  themselves  outside  the  little  swell- 
front  house,  while  Poufka  yelled  out  of  the  window  at 
them,  "  Idiots  !  idiots  !  " 

Pakline  laughed  heartily,  but  his  laugh  had  no  echo  ;  and 
even  Markelof  looked  at  his  companions,  one  after  the 
other,  as  if  he  expected  a  word  of  reproach  from  them. 

Solomine  only  smiled  as  usual. 


XX. 

''  T  T  TELL,"  said  Pakline,  who  was  the  first  to  break 
VV  the  silence,  "we  have  come  out  from  the  eigh- 
teenth century  :  now  let  us  go  to  the  twentieth.  Go- 
loushkine  is  such  an  advanced  man  that  it  would  be  an 
insult  to  put  him  in  our  own  century,  in  the  nineteenth." 

"  You  know  him  then  ?  "  asked  Neshdanof. 

"  The  world  is  full  of  the  sound  of  his  name,  and  I  said 
'  we  '  because  I  mean  to  go  with  you  to  see  him." 

"  What  ?     When  you  don't  know  him  ? " 

"  How  strange  you  are  !     Did  you  know  my  love  birds  ? " 

*'  But  you  introduced  us." 

"  Well,  you  can  introduce  me  !  There  are  no  secrets 
between  you  and  me.  As  for  Goloushkine,  he  is  a  man  of 
large  views.  He  will  be  charmed  to  welcome  a  new  face, 
you  will  see  that  he  will  !  Besides,  we  are  very  informal 
here  at  S !  " 

"Yes,"  grumbled  Markelof,  "I  see  you  are  very  in- 
formal, indeed." 

Pakline  shook  his  head. 

"  You  say  that  for  my  benefit — well,  I've  deserved  your 
reproach.  But  believe  me,  my  new  comrade,  it  would  be 
better  for  you  to  drop  awhile  the  gloomy  ideas  engendered 
by  your  bilious  temperament.     And,  above  all — " 

"'sir,  my  new  comrade,"  interrupted  Markelof  roughly, 
"allow  me  to  tell  you,  in  my  turn,  as  a  precautionary 
measure,  that  I  never  had  the  least  love  of  joking,  and  to- 
day I  care  for  it  less  than  ever.  As  to  my  temperament, 
you've  hardly  had  time  to  know  it,  as  we  met  to-day  for 
the  first  time." 

"  Well,  well,  don't  get  angry  !  I'll  believe  you  without 
so  much  ceremony." 

And  turning  to  Solomine,  he  exclaimed  :  "  You,  whom 

144 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


145 


the  penetrating  Fimoushka  pronounced  to  be  a  refreshing 
man,  and  who  really  are  somewhat  sedative  in  your  in- 
fluence, say  if  I  intended  to  be  disagreeable  to  any  one,  or 
to  make  inopportune  jokes  ;  I  simply  proposed  to  accom- 
pany you  to  Goloushkine's,  and  I'm  a  perfectly  inoffensive 
person.  It's  not  my  fault  that  Mr.  Markelof  has  a  sallow 
complexion." 

Solomine  shrugged  first  one  shoulder  and  then  the  other, 
as  was  his  wont  when  hesitating  what  to  reply. 

"Doubtless,"  he  said  at  last,  "you  neither  could  nor 
would  wound  any  one,  and  why  shouldn't  you  go  with  us 
to  Mr.  Goloushkir>e's  ?  I  am  sure  that  we  shall  pass  our 
time  there  as  agreeably  and  as  profitably  as  we  did  at  your 
cousins." 

Pakline  shook  his  finger  at  him. 

"  Oh,  oh  !  I  see  that  you're  malicious,  too  !  But  you're 
going  to  Goloushkine's  all  the  same  ?  " 

"  O? ,  yes  !     My  day  is  lost  already  !  " 

"  Well,  come  then,  '  forward  march  ! '  To  the  twenti- 
eth century  !  Neshdanof,  you're  the  pioneer  of  progress, 
show  us  the  way  !  " 

"  Very  well ;  march  !  But  don't  make  your  jokes  too 
many  times  over,  or  we  might  think  your  supply  was  run- 
ning short." 

"  Don't  be  afraid.  I  shall  always  have  enough  to  be 
more  than  a  match  for  you  and  your  kind,"  answered  Pak- 
line gayly,  and  he  hastened  on  in  front,  with  quicker  steps, 
or  as  he  himself  expressed  it,  with  quicker  limp. 

"  He's  a  very  amusing  fellow  !  "  said  Solomine,  who  fol- 
lowed him,  arm  in  arm  with  Neshdanof.  "  If  by  chance, 
which  God  forbid,  they  send  us  all  to  Siberia,  we  shall  have 
some  one  to  amuse  us." 

Markelof  walked  silently  along  behind  the  others. 

While  all  this  was  going  on  elsewhere,  at  Goloushkine's 
they  were  making  preparations  for  a  very  "  chic  "  dinner. 
They  had  prepared  a  very  fat  and  very  bad  "  oukha  ;  "  * 
divers  "  patisho  "  {pates  chauds),  and  "  fricassee  "  (Goloush- 
kine,  who,  in  spite  of  his  old-fashioned  religion,  lived  on  the 

*  Oukha.     A  kind  of  fish  soup. 


146  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

summit  of  European  civilization,  tolerated  nothing  but 
French  cookery  ;  he  had  taken  his  cook  from  a  club, 
whence  he  had  been  sent  away  for  being  too  dirty)  ;  and 
above  all,  they  had  put  enough  bottles  of  champagne  to 
cool. 

The  master  of  the  house  received  his  guests  with  grim- 
aces, with  awkward  and  hurried  manners,  and  with  the 
forced  laugh  peculiar  to  him.  He  was  enchanted  at  Pak- 
line's  coming,  as  the  latter  had  predicted,  and  contented 
himself  with  saying,  "  He's  one  of  us,  is  he  not  ?  " 

Then  he  exclaimed,  without  waiting  for  a  reply  : 

"  But  of  course  he  is." 

Then  he  told  them  that  he  had  just  come  from  that 
^^  iogit/"  of  a  governor,  who  was  always  bothering  him 
about  confounded  benevolent  institutions  ! 

In  reality  it  would  be  hard  to  say  which  delighted  Go- 
loushkine  most,  the  honor  of  being  received  by  the  governor 
or  the  pleasure  of  speaking  ill  of  that  personage  to  young 
people  of  the  advanced  party.  Then  he  presented  to 
them  the  promised  proselyte,  who  proved  to  be  the  same 
sleek,  consumptive-looking  young  man  with  a  prominent 
nose,  who  had  come  into  the  room  that  morning  to  whis- 
per to  Goloushkine,  and  who  was  Vassia,  his  clerk,  in  fact. 

"  He's  not  much  of  a  talker,"  said  Goloushkine,  pointing 
at  him  with  all  five  fingers  at  once  ;  "  but  he  is  devoted  to 
the  cause  heart  and  soul." 

And  Vassia  bowed,  blushed,  cast  down  his  eyes,  smiled, 
and  showed  his  teeth,  all  in  such  a  way  that  it  would  be 
hard  to  say  whether  he  was  a  perfect  fool  or  an  accom- 
plished knave. 

"  Come  to  table,  gentlemen,  come  to  table  !  "  cried  the 
host,  and  they  sat  down  to  a  table  well  furnished  with 
side-dishes. 

Soon  after  the  oukha,  Goloushkine  called  for  the  cham- 
pagne, which  fell  in  great  clots  into  the  glasses  like  con- 
gealed fat. 

"  To  the  success  of  our — our  enterprise  !  "  exclaimed 
Goloushkine,  winking  his  eye  and  nodding  his  head  in  the 
direction  of  the  servant,  as  if  to  imply  that  they  must  be 
prudent  in  the  presence  of  a  stranger.    The  proselyte  Vas- 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  147 

sia  was  persistently  silent  ;  seated  on  the  extreme  edge  of 
his  chair,  he  showed  in  his  whole  attitude  an  obsequious 
servility  which  was  little  in  harmony  with  the  energetic 
convictions  which  his  master  attributed  to  him,  but  he 
drank  desperately.  The  other  guests  talked  ;  that  is  to 
say,  the  host  and  Pakhne,  especially  Pakline. 

Neshdanof  felt  a  vague,  dull  sense  of  discomfort,  and 
Markelof  was  as  indignant  and  angry  as  he  had  been  at 
the  Soubotchefs',  but  in  a  different  way  ;  Solomine  occu- 
pied himself  by  observing  all  that  went  on  around  him. 

Pakline  was  as  happy  as  a  king  !  his  daring  words  greatly 
pleased  Goloushkkie,  who  never  suspected  that  this  "  little 
cripple  "  kept  whispering  in  the  ear  of  Neshdanof,  who  sat 
next  him,  the  most  cruel  jokes  at  his,  Goloushkine's,  ex- 
pense. He  took  Pakline,  and  this  was  just  what  pleased 
him,  for  a  good-natured  creature  who  could  be  patronized. 
If  he  had  sat  next  him  he  would  have  poked  him  in  the 
ribs  ;  he  made  friendly  signs  to  him  across  the  table,  and 
nodded  at  him.  Unluckily  he  was  separated  from  him  by 
Markelof,  that  "  somber  shadow,"  and  by  Solomine.  But 
at  every  word  of  Pakline's  he  doubled  himself  up  with 
laughter  ;  he  even  laughed  in  anticipation  every  time  Pak- 
line opened  his.  mouth,  tapping  himself  on  the  stomach 
and  showing  his  ugly  blue  gums. 

Pakline  soon  understood  what  was  wanted  of  him,  and 
set  himself  to  rail  at  everything  (a  very  congenial  occupa- 
tion, by  the  way)  and  at  everybody  :  conservatives,  liberals, 
bureaucrats,  advocates,  trustees,  proprietors,  members  of  the 
Zemstvo,*  St.  Petersburg,  Moscow,  all  went  through  the  mill. 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes,  yes  !  "  repeated  Goloushkine.  "  That's 
it,  that's  it  !  There's  our  mayor,  for  instance,  a  first-class 
jackass  !  a  regular  blockhead  !  You  explain  to  him  any- 
thing you  please,  and  he  doesn't  understand  one  word  ! 
Our  governor  is  just  as  bad  !  " 

"  Is  your  governor  stupid  ?  "  asked  Pakline. 

"  I  told  you  he  was  an  ass  !  " 

"  Did  you  ever  notice  whether  he  lisps,  or  speaks  through 
his  nose  ? " 


*  Provincial  assemblies  ;  a  sort  of  municipal  council. —  Tr. 


1 48  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"Why  ?"  nskcd  Goloushkine  in  some  perplexity. 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  ?  With  us,  in  Russia,  the  great 
civil  dignitaries  lisp,  and  generals  speak  through  the  nose  ? 
It's  only  the  loftiest  personages  of  the  kingdom,  who  both 
lisp  and  speak  through  their  nose  at  the  same  time." 

Goloushkine  laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks. 

"  Yes — yes — "  he  stammered.  "  He  speaks — through  his 
nose — he  belongs  to  the  military  !  " 

"  Booby  !  "  said  Pakline  to  himself. 

Some  minutes  later,  Goloushkine  exclaimed,  "  With  us,  in 
Russia,  here,  everything  is  rotten,  everything." 

Pakline  was  just  then  saying,  in  an  undertone,  to  his 
neighbor,  Neshdanof,  "Why  does  he  move  his  arms,  as  if 
his  coat  were  tight  in  the  armholes  ?  But,"  he  added  aloud, 
Avith  an  insinuating  air,  "  believe  me,  most  worthy  Kapiton 
AndreTtch,  half  measures  are  of  no  use  with  us." 

"Half  measures  !"  roared  Goloushkine,  who  had  sud- 
denly stopped  laughing  and  put  on  a  most  ferocious  ex- 
pression. "  Everything  must  be  torn  up  root  and  branch  ! 
Drink,  Vassia  !  you  son  of  a  sea  cook  !  " 

"  You  see,  I  am  drinking,  Kapiton  AndreTtch  !  "  replied 
the  clerk,  draining  his  glass  down  to  the  last  drop. 

Goloushkine  also  swallowed  a  glassful. 

"  How  does  he  keep  from  bursting  ?  "  whispered  Pakline 
to  Neshdanof. 

"  Long  habit,"  answered  the  latter. 

But  the  clerk  was  not  the  only  one  to  drink.  Wine 
loosened  everybody's  tongue,  and  Neshdanof,  Markelof, 
Solomine  himself,  gradually  joined  in  the  conversation. 
Neshdanof,  with  a  sort  of  disgust  and  scorn  of  himself,  at 
first,  because  he  found  it  hard  to  sustain  his  part,  until  he 
had  succeeded  in  lashing  himself  into  a  sort  of  factitious 
enthusiasm  ;  he  began  by  saying,  that  "  It  was  time  to  have 
done  with  vain  words,  and  to  act  !  " 

He  spoke  of  the  field  of  labor  they  had  found,  and,  a 
moment  after,  without  suspecting  that  he  was  contradicting 
himself,  he  asked  them  if  they  could  point  to  any  serious  or 
real  elements  on  which  they  could  depend,  saying,  "  That, 
for  his  part,  he  did  not  see  them.  In  society,  no  sympa- 
thy ;  among  the  people,  no  comprehension  of  the  situation. 
How  will  you  get  around  that  ?  " 


VIRGIN   SOIL. 


149 


No  one  made  any  objections  to  what  he  said,  not  so 
much  that  there  were  none  to  make,  as  that  no  one  followed 
out  his  idea. 

Markelof  then  began  to  speak,  and  in  his  hollow,  queru- 
lous voice,  spun  out  a  lengthy  discourse,  made  up  of  mo- 
notonous phrases,  some  of  them  oft-repeated. 

"  You  would  think  he  was  chopping  cabbages,"  mur- 
mured Pakline. 

It  would  have  been  hard  to  unravel  the  real  subject  of 
his  discourse  ;  occasionally  he  uttered  the  word  "  artillery  ;  " 
he  was  probably  alluding  to  defects  he  had  discovered  in 
its  organization.  Germans  and  aides-de-camp  also  came 
in  for  their  share  of  abuse. 

Solomine  too,  took  up  the  theme,  and  observed  that 
there  were  two  ways  of  waiting  :  waiting  with  folded  arms, 
and  waiting  while  taking  all  needful  precautions. 

"  We  don't  want  any  half-way  radicals,"  grumbled  Mar- 
kelof. 

"  Up  to  the  present  time,"  replied  Solomine,  "  they 
have  tried  starting  from  the  top  ;  we  will  try  starting  from 
the  bottom." 

"  Moderates  may  go  to  the  devil  !  "  cried  Goloushkine, 
with  a  savage  air.     "  We  must  finish  it  with  one  blow." 

"  In  other  words,  we  must  jump  out  a  window  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I'll  jump  out,"  howled  Goloushkine.  "  I'll 
jump  out  !  And  Vassia  shall  jump  out !  I  will  say  to  him, 
'  Jump  !  '  and  he  will  jump.     Won't  you,  Vassia  ?  " 

The  clerk  emptied  his  glass. 

"  Where  you  go,  Kapiton  Andrei'tch,  we  will  follow  you. 
Is  it  for  us  to  dispute  your  will  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  !  I  would  twist  you  till  you 
were  as  crooked  as  a  ram's  horn  !  " 

The  discussion  soon  degenerated  into  what  is  called  by 
topers  "  building  the  tower  of  Babel."  It  was  a  tremendous 
uproar.  Just  as  outside,  in  the  mild  autumn  air,  the  first 
flakes  of  snow  were  whirling  and  skurrying  to  the  ground, 
within,  in  the  heated  atmosphere  of  Goloushkine's  dining- 
room,  whirls  of  words  struggled  with  words,  pouring  out 
one  over  the  other  :  progress,  government,  literature,  the 
question  of  taxes,  the  religious  question,  the  woman  ques- 


Ijo  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

tion,  the  court  question,  classicism,  realism,  communism, 
nihilism — international,  clerical,  liberal,  capital  ;  adminis- 
tration, organization,  association,  and  even  crystallization  ! 

Goloushkine  was  delighted,  transported ;  this  uproar 
filled  him  with  rapture,  he  could  wish  for  nothing  better, 
he  was  in  the  seventh  heaven  !  He  was  triumphant. 
"  This  is  the  sort  of  people  we  are  !  "  he  seemed  to  say. 
"  Stand  back,  or  I'll  kill  you  !  Make  way  for  Kapiton 
Goloushkine  !  " 

The  clerk  Vassia  was  so  far  gone  that  he  held  an  ani- 
mated conversation  with  his  plate  ;  then  cried  out  furi- 
ously :  "  What  the  devil  is  a  progymnese  ?  " 

Goloushkine  suddenly  straightened  himself,  and  throwing 
back  his  crimson  countenance,  on  which  an  expression  of 
triumph  and  overbearing  brutality  was  oddly  mingled  with 
secret  fear  and  even  trepidation,  he  cried  out  with  the  full 
strength  of  his  lungs  : 

"  I'll  sacrifice  another  thousand,  Vassia  !  " 

"  There  !  there  !  don't  agitate  yourself  !  "  replied  Vassia 
in  a  low  tone. 

Pakline,  pale  and  covered  with  perspiration  (in  the  last 
quarter  of  an  hour  he  had  made  as  many  libations  as  the 
clerk),  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  raising  both  hands  above 
his  head,  exclaimed,  with  a  heavy  accent  on  each  sylla- 
ble : 

"  '■  Sacrifice  !  '  *  Sacrifice  !  '  Oh,  what  a  profanation  of  a 
sacred  word  !  Sacrifice  !  What  !  no  one  dare  raise  him- 
self to  thee;  no  one  can  fulfill  the  obligations  thou  imposest ; 
no  one  here,  at  least ;  and  this  blockhead,  this  idiot,  this 
vile  money-bag,  gives  a  shake  to  his  ignoble  purse,  he 
throws  down  a  handful  of  rubles,  he  cries,  '  Sacrifice  !  ' 
and  expects  to  be  thanked.  Expects  to  be  crowned  with 
laurels.     The  low  rascal  !  " 

Probably  Goloushkine  did  not  hear  or  did  not  under- 
stand !  perhaps  he  even  considered  the  words  of  Pakline  as 
a  joke,  for  he  repeated  again,  "  Yes  ;  a  thousand  rubles  ! 
On  the  word  of  Kapiton  Goloushkine  !  sure  as  gospel  !  " 

He  rummaged  in  his  pocket  for  a  moment. 

"  There,  there's  the  money  ;  take  it,  swallow  it,  and  re- 
member Kapiton  !  " 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  151 

When  flushed  with  wine  he  spoke  of  himself  in  the  third 
person,  as  children  do. 

Markelof  silently  picked  up  the  bank-notes  spread  out 
on  the  wine-stained  table-cloth.  After  which,  as  there 
was  no  reason  for  their  longer  stay,  and  as  moreover  it  was 
growing  late,  they  arose  from  the  table,  took  their  hats,  and 
departed. 

When  they  got  into  the  street  they  were  all  a  little  dizzy, 
especially  Paikline. 

"  Well,  where  shall  we  go  now  ?  "  he  said,  with  some 
difficulty. 

"  I  don't  know  where  you  are  going,"  replied  Solomine, 
"  but  I'm  going  home." 

"  To  the  factory  ?  " 

"  To  the  factory." 

"  At  this  time  of  night,  and  on  foot  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  There  are  neither  thieves  nor  wolves  in  these 
parts,  and  the  walk  will  do  me  good.  The  night  air  is  so 
fresh." 

"  But  it  is  four  versts." 

"  Well,  what  if  it  were  five  ?    Aic  revotr,  gentlemen  !  " 

Solomine  buttoned  up  his  coat,  pulled  his  cap  down  over 
his  eyes,  lit  a  cigar,  and  set  off  at  a  good  pace. 

"  And  where  are  you  going  ?  "  Pakline  asked  Neshdanof, 

"  Home  with  him." 

He  pointed  to  Markelof,  who  was  standing  motionless, 
his  arms  crossed  on  his  chest. 

"  We  have  a  carriage  and  horses." 

"  Ah  !  very  well.  And  I,  my  friend,  I  shall  go  to  the 
oasis,  to  Fomoushka  and  Fimoushka.  Now,  comrade, 
would  you  like  to  hear  my  opinion  ?  That  house  and  this 
are  both  madhouses  ;  with  this  difference,  that  in  the 
eighteenth  century  house  we  approach  more  nearly  to  real 
Russian  life  than  in  this  of  the  twentieth  century.  Good 
evening,  gentlemen  ;  I'm  drunk,  don't  mind  me  !  Just 
listen  to  one  thing  more.  There's  not  a  better  woman  in 
the  world  than  my  sister  Snandoulia  !  Ah,  well,  my  sister 
is  deformed,  and  is  named  Snandoulia  !  It's  always  so  in 
this  world.  Besides,  that's  a  good  name  for  her.  Do  you 
know  who  St.    Snandoulia  was  ?     She  was  a   charitable 


152  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

woman,  who  visited  prisons,  dressed  the  prisoners'  Avounds, 
and  took  care  of  the  sick.  But  good  night,  good  night, 
Neshdanof  man,  deserving  to  be  pitied  !  And  you,  officer, 
ha,  cub,  good  night !  " 

He  started  toward  the  oasis.  Markelof  and  Neshdanof 
directed  their  steps  toward  the  inn  where  they  had  left  the 
tarantass,  had  it  harnessed,  and  half  an  hour  later  were 
rolling  along  the  highway. 


XXI. 

THE  sky  was  covered  with  low-hanging  clouds  ;  it  was 
not  quite  dark,  and  the  ruts  shone  dimly  in  front  of 
the  carriage  ;  but  on  both  sides  all  was  wrapped  in  mist, 
and  the  outhnes  of  , the  different  objects  melted  into  large, 
shapeless  patches.  It  was  a  dull,  unsettled  night  ;  the 
wind  blew  in  little,  damp  puffs,  bringing  the  scent  of  rain 
and  of  vast  wheat  fields.  When  the  carriage  had  passed  a 
certain  clump  of  oaks  which  served  as  a  landmark,  and  they 
Avere  obliged  to  take  the  cross-road,  the  traveling  became 
still  less  comfortable,  the  narrow  road  at  times  entirely  dis- 
appearing ;  the  coachman  drove  more  slowly.  "  If  we 
only  don't  get  lost,"  said  Neshdanof,  who  had  till  then  re- 
mained silent. 

"  Don't  be  afraid  of  that,"  replied  Markelof.  "  Two 
misfortunes  never  come  in  one  day." 

"  And  what  was  the  first  ?  " 

"  The  first  ?  Why,  don't  you  consider  the  loss  of  a  day 
as  something  ? " 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  that  Goloushkine  !  we  ought  not  to  have 
drunk  so  much.     My  head  aches  horribly." 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  Goloushkine.  He  at  least  gave 
us  some  money,  so  that  our  visit  was  not  quite  fruitless." 

"  Oh  !  Then  you  are  complaining  of  Pakline's  taking 
us  to  see  his  inseparables,  as  he  calls  them." 

"  There  was  not  much  to  regret  in  that  or  to  be  glad  of. 
I  am  not  one  of  the  kind  who  are  amused  by  such  trifles. 
That  was  not  the  misfortune  I  meant." 

"  What  was  it  then  ?  " 

Markelof  did  not  make  any  reply,  and  drew  back  into  his 
corner  of  the  carriage,  as  if  to  hide  himself.  Neshdanof 
co-uld  not  distinguish  his  features  ;  his  mustache,  only, 
showed  like  a  black  line  across  his  face  ;  but  ever  since 

153 


154 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


the  morning  something  had  been  noticeable  in  Markelof 
which  his  companion  shrank  from  investigating  ;  a  sort  of 
gloomy,  secret  irritation. 

"  Listen,  Serge  Michaelovitch,"  he  said  to  him  after  a 
moment's  silence.  "  Seriously,  were  you  so  very  much 
pleased  with  that  Mr.  Kisliakof's  letters  ?  To  me  they 
seemed  sheer  nonsense,  if  you  will  excuse  my  saying  so." 

Markelof  suddenly  sat  up  straight. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  said  he  angrily,  "  I  in  no  way  share 
your  opinion  of  those  letters  ;  I  consider  them  very  re- 
markable and  conscientious.  Moreover,  Kisliakof  works, 
he  takes  pains,  and  above  all,  he  has  faith.  He  believes 
in  one  work,  he  believes  in  re-vo-lu-tion  !  And  let  me  tell 
you,  Alexis  Dimitritch,  I  observe  that  you,  you  are  luke- 
warm in  regard  to  our  work — you  do  not  really  believe  in  it." 

"  What  makes  you  think  that  ?  "  asked  Neshdanof  slowly. 

"  What  makes  me  think  that  ?  Why,  all  you  say — your 
whole  manner.  Who  was  it  that  said  at  Goloushkine's 
to-day  that  he  did  not  see  what  elements  there  were  that 
could  be  depended  upon  ?  You  !  Who  asked  if  we  could 
point  out  any  such  elements  ?  You  again  !  And  when 
your  friend  Pakline — that  clown,  that  buffoon — rolled  up 
his  eyes  to  heaven  declaring  that  no  one  of  us  was  capable 
of  making  a  sacrifice,  who  upheld  him  ?  who  nodded  ap- 
proval ?  Wasn't  it  you  ?  Say  and  think  of  yourself  what 
you  please,  that  is  your  affair  ;  for  my  part  I  know  people 
who  have  had  the  courage  to  thrust  away  from  them  all 
that  makes  life  beautiful,  even  the  happiness  of  love  itself, 
in  order  to  carry  out  their  ideas,  and  to  remain  faithful  to 
their  convictions.  But  you  have  naturally  something  quite 
different  in  your  head  to-day  !  " 

"  To-day  ?     Why  particularly  to-day  ?  " 

"  Oh,  come  !  no  shamming,  happy  Don  Juan,  myrtle 
crowned  lover  !  "  cried  Markelof,  completely  forgetting  the 
driver  who  could  hear  every  word,  although  he  did  not 
turn  his  head. 

At  that  moment  the  driver,  it  is  true,  was  more  concerned 
about  the  right  road  than  about  the  quarrels  of  the  gentle- 
men in  behind  him  ;  he  was  trying  with  care,  almost  with 
timidity,  to  calm  the  shaft-horse,  who  was  obstinately  toss- 


VIRGIN   SOIL.  I-- 

ing  his  head  and  rearing  up  on  his  hind  legs  ;  the  tarantass 
shpped  on  a  rocky  slope  which  ought  not  to  have  been 
there. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon — I  don't  quite  understand,"  said 
Neshdanof. 

Markelof  burst  into  a  forced  and  bitter  laugh. 

"  You  don't  understand.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  But  I  know  all 
about  it,  my  dear  sir.  I  know  to  whom  you  made  your 
declaration  of  love  yesterday  evening  ;  I  know  whom  you 
charmed  by  your  imposing  manner  and  your  fine  discourse  ; 
I  know  who  admits  you  into  her  room  after  ten  o'clock  in 
the  evening."  *■ 

"  Master,"  said  the  coachman  suddenly  to  Markelof, 
"  will  you  please  take  the  reins  for  a  moment  ?  I  will  get 
down  and  see.  I  think  we  have  come  a  little  out  of  our 
way.     There  is  a  sort  of  hole  here." 

In  fact,  the  tarantass  did  lean  very  much  to  one  side. 

Marke'of  took  the  reins  which  the  driver  handed  to  him, 
and  continued,  without  lowering  his  voice  : 

"  I  do  not  blame  you,  Alexis  Dimitritch.  You  profited 
by  the  occasion.  That  was  your  right.  I  only  say  that  I 
am  not  surprised  that  you  should  cool  off  toward  the  com- 
mon *  Avork.'  I  tell  you  again,  you  have  something  else  in 
your  head,  and  I  venture  this  remark  on  my  own  account  : 
Where  is  the  man  who  could  tell  beforehand  with  any  cer- 
tainty what  would  please  a  young  girl,  or  could  guess  what 
she  wishes  ?  " 

"  I  understand  you  ncv,"  began  Neshdanof.  "  I  un- 
derstand your  bitterness.  I  know  who  has  played  the  spy 
upon  us,  and  hastened  to  tell  you." 

But  Markelof,  without  appearing  to  hear  him,  continued, 
dwelling  on  each  word  as  if  he  were  chanting  : 

"  It  is  not  a  question  of  merit,  or  of  extraordinary  quali- 
ties— moral  or  physical — no  !  It  is  merely  the  good  luck, 
the  cursed  good  luck  of  those  damned  bastards  !  " 

Markelof  pronounced  the  last  Avords  in  a  rapid,  jerky 
way,  then  suddenly  broke  off  as  if  turned  to  stone. 

Neshdanof  in  the  darkness  felt  his  face  grow  pale  and  a 
cold  shiver  run  over  his  cheeks.  He  made  a  violent  effort 
to  keep  from  springing  at  Markelof's  throat. 


156  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

He  must  have  blood,  blood,  to  wash  out  this  insult ! 

"  I  have  found  the  road  again  !  "  cried  the  coachman, 
who  now  made  his  appearance  again  near  the  right  fore- 
wheel  ;  "  I  had  made  a  little  mistake,  I  took  the  turning  to 
the  left.  But  there  is  no  harm  done  now.  We  shall  be 
there  in  a  minute  ;  it  is  only  one  verst  to  the  house.  Keep 
your  seats." 

He  climbed  up  to  the  board  which  served  him  for  a  seat, 
took  the  reins  from  the  hands  of  Markelof,  and  turned  the 
shaft  horse  into  the  right  road.  The  tarantass,  at  first  vio- 
lently shaken  two  or  three  times,  rolled  along  at  last  quickly 
and  smoothly  on  an  even  road.  The  shadows  seemed  to 
separate  and  grow  less  heavy.  A  little  hill  appeared  in 
front  of  them ;  a  light  shone,  vanished,  then  another.  A 
dog  barked. 

"There  are  the  first  cabins," said  the  coachman.  "  Come, 
my  little  cats  !     Get  up  !  " 

The  lights  became  more  and  more  numerous. 

"  After  such  an  insult,"  said  Neshdanof  at  length,  "  you 
will  easily  understand,  Mr.  Markelof,  that  it  will  be  impos- 
sible for  me  to  pass  the  night  beneath  your  roof ;  I  am, 
therefore,  reluctantly  obliged  to  beg  you  to  lend  me  your 
tarantass  to  return  to  the  town  ;  to-morrow  I  shall  find  a 
conveyance  home,  and  you  will  receive  a  communication, 
such  as  you  doubtless  expect." 

Markelof  waited  a  moment  before  answering. 

"  Neshdanof,"  he  said  suddenly  with  a  firm  voice,  but 
despairing  accent,  "  Neshdanof,  for  heaven's  sake,  come  into 
my  house,  were  it  only  that  I  may  ask  your  pardon  on  my 
knees  !  Neshdanof,  forget — forget  my  mad  words  !  Oh, 
if  any  one  could  understand  how  wretched  I  am  !  " 

Markelof  struck  his  chest  such  a  blow  with  his  fist  that 
it  seemed  to  groan. 

"  Neshdanof,  be  generous  !  Give  me  your  hand.  Do 
not  refuse  to  forgive  me  !  " 

Neshdanof  held  out  his  hand,  not  without  some  hesi- 
tation ;  but  he  extended  it.  Markelof  pressed  it  with  such 
force  that  Neshdanof  came  near  crying  out  with  the  pain. 

The  tarantass  stopped  before  the  front  steps  of  Marke- 
lof's  house. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  157 

"Listen,  Neshdanof,"  said  Markelof  to  his  companion,  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  later,  in  his  dressing-room,  "  listen  !  " 

He  said  only  "  thou  "  to  him,  and  this  sudden  "  thou  " 
— addressed  to  the  man  in  whom  he  had  just  found  a  suc- 
cessful rival,  the  man  to  whom  he  had  just  offered  a  deadly 
insult,  whom  he  had  wished  to  kill  and  tear  in  pieces — in 
this  "  thou  "  there  was,  at  the  same  time,  an  absolute  re- 
nunciation, a  humble  and  sorrowful  petition,  and  even  a 
sort  of  claim.  And  that  Neshdanof  recognized  this  claim 
is  proved  by  the  fact  that  he  also  said  "  thou  "  to  his  com- 
panion. 

"  Listen  !  I  told*  you  a  short  time  ago  that  I  had  re- 
nounced the  joys  of  love,  that  I  had  thrust  them  from  me 
in  order  to  consecrate  myself  wholly  to  my  convictions. 
That  was  a  lie,  a  vain  boast  !  I  have  never  been  offered 
anything  of  the  sort,  and  I  have  never  thrust  it  from  me  ! 
I  was  born  unlucky  and  unlucky  I  have  always  been.  Per- 
haps it  w  as  ordained  so.  I  was  not  made  for  love.  No 
doubt  my  mission  is  elsewhere.  Since  you  can  combine 
both  things,  loving,  being  loved  in  return,  and  at  the  same 
time  serving  the  work —  You  are  a  lucky  mortal  !  I  envy 
you.  But  I — no,  I  cannot  !  You  are  happy,  you  are 
happy  !     But  I — I  cannot — " 

Markelof  said  all  this  in  a  low  voice,  sitting  on  a 
chair  with  his  head  bent  forward  and  his  arms  hanging 
down. 

Neshdanof  was  standing  before  him,  in  deep,  dreamy  at- 
tention, and  though  Markelof  congratulated  him  on  being 
happy,  he  did  not  feel  at  all  so. 

"  In  my  youth  a  woman  betrayed  me,"  continued  Mar- 
kelof ;  "  she  was  an  adorable  young  girl,  but  she  deceived 
me  ;  for  whom  ?  For  a  German  !  an  aide-de-camp  !  And 
Marianne — " 

He  interrupted  himself.  This  was  the  first  time  he  had 
spoken  her  name  and  it  seemed  to  burn  his  lips. 

"  Marianne  did  not  deceive  me,  she  told  mc  in  so  many 
words  that  she  did  not  love  me.  Why  should  she  love  me  ? 
She  had  given  herself  to  you.  Oh,  well,  what  of  that  ? 
Was  she  not  free  ? " 

"  But  stop,  stop  !  "  cried  Neshdanof.   "  What  are  you  say- 


158  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

ing  ?  She  has  given  herself  to  me  ?  I  do  not  know  what 
your  sister  may  have  written,  but  I  swear  to  you — " 

"  I  do  not  say  that  !  She  has  given  herself  to  you  morally, 
she  has  given  you  her  heart,  her  soul !  "  interrupted  Mar- 
kelof,  not  without  deriving  secret  comfort  from  Neshdanof 's 
exclamation.  "  And  she  has  done  well.  As  to  my  sister 
she  certainly  did  not  mean  to  pain  me,  or  rather  she  did  not 
care  whether  she  pained  me  or  not ;  but  one  thing  is  cer- 
tain, and  that  is  that  she  detests  you,  and  Marianne  too. 
She  did  not  lie.  Besides,  let  her  do  what  she  likes  ;  I  don't 
care  what  she  does  !  " 

"Yes,"  thought  Neshdanof,  "she  detests  us." 

"  All  is  for  the  best,"  resumed  Markelof,  without  chang- 
ing his  position.  "  Now  that  the  last  ties  are  broken,  noth- 
ing can  trouble  me  more  !  You  will  tell  me  that  Goloush- 
kine  is  an  idiot,  that  is  possible.  Kisliakof's  letters  are 
ridiculous,  that  may  be.  But  the  important  thing,  what  we 
must  perceive,  is  that,  according  to  his  letters,  everything  is 
ready  everywhere.     You  doubt  that  perhaps  ?  " 

Neshdanof  did  not  answer. 

"  You  are  perhaps  right  ;  but  if  we  wait  till  all  is  ready, 
absolutely  everything,  we  shall  never  begin.  If  we  always 
weigh  in  advance  all  the  consequences  of  our  actions  we 
can't  fail  to  find  some  bad  ones.  For  instance,  when  our 
predecessors  were  making  ready  for  the  emancipation  of 
the  serfs,  could  they  foresee  that  one  of  the  results  of  this 
emancipation  would  be  the  springing  up  of  a  class  of  usurers 
who  charge  the  peasants  six  rubles  for  a  tchetver*  of  dam- 
aged wheat,  and  who  receive  in  exchange,"  Markelof  bent 
one  finger  first,  "  at  least  six  rubles'  worth  of  work  ;  sec- 
ondly," Markelof  bent  another  finger,  "  a  whole  tchetver 
of  good  wheat,  and  besides,"  he  bent  another  finger,  "  some- 
thing more  as  interest  ?  That  is  to  say,  they  drain  the  last 
drop  of  the  peasant's  blood.  Could  the  emancipators 
however  foresee  that  ?  And  even  if  they  had  foreseen  it, 
would  they  not  still  have  done  right  to  free  the  peasants, 
and  not  to  consider  all  the  results  beforehand  ?  That  is 
why  my  resolution  is  taken." 

*  Tchetver.     About  five  and  a  half  bushels. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  15^ 

_  Neshdanof  fixed  upon  Markelof  an  astonished  and  ques- 
tioning gaze,  but  he  turned  away  his  eyes.  His  frowning 
brow  hid  his  eyes,  he  bit  his  hps  and  mustache. 

"  Yes,  my  resokition  is  taken  !  "  he  repeated,  striking  his 
knee  violently  with  his  brown,  hairy  fist.  "  I  am  an  obsti- 
nate fellow.  It  is  not  for  nothing  that  I  am  half  a  Little 
Russian." 

Then  he  rose  and  shuffling  his  feet  along  as  if  he  had 
not  strength  to  lift  them  from  the  ground,  he  passed  into 
his  bed-chamber  ;  whence  he  returned  in  a  moment,  car- 
r>'ing  in  his  hand  a  little  portrait  of  Marianne,  framed  un- 
der glass. 

"Take  this,"  he  said,  with  a  sad  but  calm  voice.  "It 
was  I  who  made  it.  I  am  a  poor  draftsman,  but  look, 
I  think  it  is  like  her. "  The  portrait,  a  profile,  drawn  in 
pencil,  was  really  very  like  her.  "  Take  this,  my  friend,  it 
is  my  last  will  and  testament  ;  with  this  portrait  I  give  you, 
not  my  rights,  for  I  have  none,  but  everything,  every- 
thing !  I  give  to  you  all,  and  she — my  friend,  she  is  a 
good—" 

Markelof  stopped  ;  his  breast  heaved  visibly. 

"  Take  it,  you  are  no  longer  angry  with  me,  are  you  ? 
Well,  take  it  then,  I  have  no  further  need  for  anything  of 
the  sort." 

Neshdanof  took  the  portrait,  but  a  strange  feeUng  op- 
pressed him.  He  felt  as  if  he  had  no  right  to  accept  such 
a  gift ;  that  if  Markelof  could  read  what  was  passing  in  his 
heart,  he  would  not,  perhaps,  give  him  this  portrait.  Nesh- 
danof held  in  his  hand  the  little  bit  of  pasteboard,  carefully 
framed  with  a  black  frame  with  a  gilded  edge,  and  asked 
himself  what  he  should  do  with  it. 

"  It  is  a  man's  whole  life  that  I  hold  in  my  hand,"  he 
thought. 

He  understood  what  a  cruel  sacrifice-  Markelof  was 
making  at  this  moment  ;  but  why,  why  particularly  for 
him  ?  Should  he  give  the  portrait  back  to  Markelof  ?  No  ; 
that  would  have  been  a  still  more  cruel  injury — after  all, 
this  face  was  dear  to  him,  he  loved  this  woman  ! 

Neshdanof  then  looked  at  Markelof,  not  without  some 
dread ;  was  he  not  watching  him  ?  was  he  not  trying  to 


l6o  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

guess  his  thoughts  ?  But  Markelof  was  gnawing  his  mus- 
tache with  still  averted  gaze. 

The  old  servant  came  in  with  a  candle  in  his  hand. 

Markelof  started. 

"  It  is  time  to  go  to  sleep,  my  friend  Alexis,"  cried  he. 
*' Things  look  different  by  daylight.  To-morrow  you  shall 
have  some  horses  and  drive  home  again,  so  good-by !  " 

"  Good-by  to  you  too,  old  fellow  !  "  he  added  suddenly 
to  the  servant,  slapping  him  on  the  shoulder.  "  Don't  you 
think  unkindly  of  me  either  !  " 

The  old  man  was  so  surprised  that  he  almost  dropped 
his  candle,  and  the  look  which  he  fixed  on  his  master  had 
in  it  something  unlike,  something  more  than  his  habitual 
sadness. 

Neshdanof  withdrew  to  his  chamber.  He  was  not  at  all 
happy.  The  wine  which  he  had  drunk  still  made  his  head 
ache.  There  was  a  singing  in  his  ears,  and  shadows  passed 
before  his  eyes  even  when  he  shut  them.  Goloushkine, 
the  clerk  Vassia,  Fomoushka,  Fimoushka,  whirled  before 
him  ;  the  distant  image  of  Marianne  seemed  afraid  to  ap- 
proach, as  if  distrustful.  All  that  he  had  himself  said  and 
done  seemed  to  him  lying  and  deceit,  useless,  sickening 
absurdity  ;  and  what  he  ought  to  have  done,  the  end  toward 
which  one  should  tend,  seemed  hidden  in  some  unknown, 
inaccessible  place,  under  a  triple  lock,  buried  in  the  depths 
of  the  earth.  And  he  felt  an  unceasing  longing  to  get  up  to 
go  to  Markelof,  and  say  to  him,  "  Take  back  your  present, 
take  it  back  !  " 

"  Pugh  !  what  a  disgusting  thing  life  is  !  "  he  cried  at 
last. 

The  next  day  he  started  early.  Markelof  was  on  the 
front  steps  surrounded  by  peasants.  Had  he  called  them 
or  had  they  come  of  themselves  ?  Neshdanof  could 
not  tell.  Markelof  bid  him  good-by  in  a  dry,  laconic 
fashion.  However,  he  seemed  to  have  something  of  very 
grave  importance  to  say  to  the  peasants.  And  the  old 
servant  was  there  as  usual  with  his  eternal  mournful  look. 

The  tarantass  passed  quickly  through  the  town,  and 
when  it  reached  the  country  went  at  a  good  pace.  The 
horses  were  the  same  as  the  evening  before  ;  but  the  driver, 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  l6r 

whether  because  Neshdanof  lived  in  a  handsome  house  or 
for  some  other  reason,  counted  on  receiving  a  handsome 
pourboire,  and  as  every  one  knows,  when  the  coachman  has 
had  something  good  to  drink  or  hopes  to  have  something, 
the  horses  go  Hke  the  wind. 

The  day,  although  somewhat  fresh,  was  a  real  June  day  : 
Avhite  clouds  were  quickly  sweeping  across  the  blue  sky  ; 
the  strong,  steady  wind  raised  no  dust  on  the  road,  which 
had  been  well  hardened  by  the  rain  of  the  night  before  ; 
the  rustling  willows  waved  and  shone,  everything  was  stir- 
ring and  growing  ;  the  cry  of  the  quail  on  the  distant  hills 
came  to  them,  acro«s  the  green  ravines,  in  clear,  liquid  notes 
which  themselves  seemed  winged,  as  if  they  came  by  flying  ; 
the  raven's  glossy  plumage  shone  in  the  sun,  and  upon 
the  line  of  the  horizon  there  was  something  passing 
which  looked  like  great  black  insects.  These  were  the 
horses  of  the  peasants,  who  were  giving  a  second  plowing 
to  their  fallow  land. 

But  Neshdanof  passed  by  all  this  without  seeing  it ;  he 
did  not  even  perceive  when  he  had  reached  the  Sipiagin's 
estate,  so  absorbed  was  he  in  his  thoughts. 

Nevertheless  he  trembled  when  they  came  in  sight  of 
the  house,  and  he  saw  in  the  upper  story  the  window  of 
Marianne's  room.  "  Yes,"  he  said  to  himself,  with  a  pleasant 
glow  about  his  heart ;  "  he  was  right,  she  is  a  good  girl, 
and  I  love  her." 

II 


XXII. 

HE  went  quickly  to  change  his  clothes,  then  he  came 
down  to  give  Kola  his  lesson.  Sipiagin,  whom  he 
met  in  the  dining-room,  gave  him  a  coldly  polite  bow, 
asked  him  with  an  air  of  indifference  whether  he  had  had  a 
pleasant  visit,  and  went  into  his  study.  The  statesman 
had  already  decided  in  his  ministerial  mind  that  at  the  end 
of  the  vacation  he  would  pack  this  young  tutor  back  to 
Petersburg,  for  he  was  "  really  too  red,"  and  that  mean- 
while he  would  keep  his  eye  on  him.  "  I  wasn't  lucky 
this  time,"  he  said  to  himself  ;  "but,  after  all,  it  might  have 
been  worse." 

Mme.  Sipiagin's  feelings  toward  Neshdanof  were  much 
more  lively  and  energetic.  She  could  not  endure  him  ! 
Hadn't  the  fellow  insulted  her  ? 

Marianne  was  right  in  thinking  it  was  Mme.  Sipiagin 
who  was  eavesdropping  that  evening  in  the  hall — yes, 
that  great  lady  was  not  above  such  devices.  During  the 
two  days'  absence  of  the  young  man  she  had  not  had  any 
explanation  with  her  "  flighty  "  niece  ;  but  she  gave  her 
continually  to  understand  that  she  knew  everything,  that 
she  was  no  less  indignant  than  surprised,  and  that  her  sur- 
prise would  be  greater,  if  it  was  not  combined  with  some 
contempt  and  pity.  Indeed,  her  lip  was  curled  with  ill- 
concealed  contempt ;  she  lifted  her  eyebrows  with  a  sort  of 
amused  pity  whenever  she  looked  at  Marianne  or  talked 
with  her  ;  her  haughty  eyes  rested  with  indolent  perplexity, 
and  a  sort  of  wearied  disgust,  on  this  foolish  girl,  who, 
after  so  many  fancies  and  eccentricities,  had  at  last  kissed 
in  a  dark  room  the  first  student  she  happened  to  meet. 

Poor  Marianne  !  Her  firm,  proud  lips  had  never  yet 
submitted  to  a  kiss. 

Valentine  Michailovna,  did  not  however,  tell  her  hus- 
band what  she  had  found  out ;  she  confined  herself  to  ac- 
companying the  few  words  she  addressed  to  Marianne  in 

162 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  163 

Sipiagin's  presence  with  a  meaning  smile  which  had  no 
connection  with  what  she  was  saying. 

It  even  happened  at  odd  moments  that  she  was  a  little 
sorry  she  had  written  to  her  brother.  But,  on  the  whole, 
she  preferred  being  sorry,  and  having  written,  to  not  being 
sorry  and  not  having  written. 

Neshdanof  saw  Marianne  for  only  a  moment,  in  the 
dining-room,  after  breakfast.  He  found  her  grown  pale 
and  wan  ;  she  by  no  means  looked  her  best  that  day,  but 
the  quick  glance  she  threw  at  him  as  he  came  in  went 
straight  to  his  heart. 

As  for  Mme.  Sipiagin,  she  looked  at  him  as  if  she  were 
saying  to  herself,  "  Bravo  !  capital  !  very  well  done  !  " 
And  at  the  same  time  she  tried  to  make  out  from  his  ex- 
pression whether  Markelof  had  shown  him  her  letter.  She 
finally  decided  that  he  had. 

Sipiagin,  when  he  heard  that  Neshdanof  had  visited  the 
mill,  of  which  Solomine  was  superintendent,  began  to  ask 
him  about  "  that  industrial  establishment  which  was  so  in- 
teresting from  all  points  of  view,"  but  the  young  man's 
answers  soon  showed  him  that  he  had  not  seen  anything, 
and  he  relapsed  into  majestic  silence,  as  if  he  was  vexed 
with  himself  for  expecting  any  serious  information  from  so 
immature  a  youth. 

As  they  were  leaving  the  dining-room,  Marianne  had 
an  opportunity  to  whisper  to  Neshdanof  : 

"  Go  and  wait  for  me  in  the  birch  grove,  at  the  end  of 
the  garden  ;  I'll  join  thee  as  soon  as  I  can." 

"  She,  too,  says  '  thou,'  "  thought  Neshdanof.  "  How  sweet 
and  unexpected,  pleasant  and  strange  !  "  Yet  it  would  have 
seemed  impossible  that  she  should  not  have  done  so. 

He  felt  that  this  would  have  been  a  real  unhappiness 
to  him.  Was  he  in  love  with  this  young  girl  ?  He  did  not  at 
all  know,  but  he  felt  with  his  whole  being  that  she  had 
become  dear  to  him — and  intimate — and  necessary — neces- 
sary, above  all. 

The  grove  where  Marianne  had  told  him  to  go  was 
composed  of  a  hundred  large  old  birch  trees,  principally 
weeping  birches.  The  wind  was  still  blowing  steadily  and 
strongly  ;  the  long  tufts  of  slender  branches  swayed  and 
waved  like  floating  tresses  of  hair  ;  the  distant  clouds  were 


1 64  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

still  passing  swiftly  across  the  blue  sky  ;  v/hen  one  of  them 
passed  over  the  sun  everything  became,  not  dark,  but  of 
uniform  tint.  But  the  cloud  would  quickly  pass,  and  all 
around  him  at  once  brilliant  patches  of  light  would  begin 
to  (quiver  tumultuously,  meeting,  separating,  mingling  to- 
gether. The  sound  and  movement  remained  as  before, 
'  but  there  was  added  an  appearance  of  joy  and  of  festivity. 
It  is  with  this  same  joyous  violence  that  passion  penetrates 
into  a  darkened  and  troubled  heart.  And  such  a  heart 
Neshdanof  carried  in  his  breast. 

He  leaned  standing  against  the  trunk  of  a  birch  and  waited. 
He  did  not  know  just  what  he  felt,  nor  did  he  wish  to  know  ; 
he  was  at  the  same  time  more  disturbed  and  yet  more  at 
ease  than  when  at  Markelof's.  He  wished  above  all  to 
see  her,  to  speak  to  her  ;  he  became  conscious  of  that  tie 
which  suddenly  unites  two  living  beings.  Neshdanof 
thought  of  the  rope  which  is  thrown  ashore  as  a  steamer 
approaches  the  wharf.  Then  it  is  drawn  round  a  post, 
and  the  boat  stops.  It  has  reached  port  !  God  be 
thanked  ! 

Suddenly  he  trembled.  A  woman's  dress  appeared  at  a 
distance  in  the  path.  It  was  she.  But  was  she  walking 
toward  or  away  from  him  ?  He  could  not  tell  which  at 
first,  then  he  noticed  that  the  patches  of  light  and  shadow 
ran  7/p  her  dress,  she  must  be  coming  toward  him,  they 
would  have  run  down  if  she  had  been  going  away.  Some 
moments  more  and  she  was  close  to  him,  before  him,  with 
her  bright,  friendly  face,  a  caressing  brilliancy  in  her  eyes, 
a  light  but  gay  smile  playing  about  her  lips.  He  seized  the 
hands  she  held  out  to  him,  his  voice  failed  him,  she  also  said 
■nothing.  Her  quick  walk  had  put  her  out  of  breath,  but 
her  look  showed  that  she  was  glad  that  he  was  so  rejoiced 
to  see  her. 

She  frrst  broke  silence. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  tell  me  quickly  what  has  been  de- 
cided." 

Neshdanof  looked  surprised. 

"  Decided  ?  we  have  decided  nothing  so  soon  as  this." 

"  Oh  !  you  understand  me  well  enough.  Tell  me  what 
you  talked  about.     Whom  did  you  see  ?     Did  you  make 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  165 

Solomine's  acquaintance  ?  Tell  me  everything,  every- 
thing !  But  wait,  let  us  first  come  this  way.  I  know  a 
place  where  we  shall  be  less  in  sight." 

She  led  him,  and  he  followed  her  obediently  across  the 
tall,  dry,  stiff  grass. 

She  led  him  to  a  spot  where  a  large  birch  tree  lay, 
thrown  down  by  some  storm.  They  sat  down  on  its 
trunk. 

"  Come,  tell  me  !  "  she  repeated. 

But  she  immediately  added  : 

"  Oh  !  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  !  It  seemed  as  if  these 
two  days  would  never  end.  Do  you  know  that  I  am  certain 
that  Mme.  Sipiagin  overheard  us  ?" 

"  She  wrote  to  Markelof  about  it,"  said  Neshdanof. 

"  To  him  ?  " 

Marianne  stopped  speaking,  and  little  by  httle  her  face 
became  red,  not  with  embarrassment,  but  with  another  and 
stronger  emotion. 

"  The  bad,  mischief-making  woman  !  "  she  murmured 
slowly  ;  "  she  had  no  right  to  do  that.  But  bah  !  what 
difference  does  it  make  ?     Come,  tell  me  everything  !  " 

Neshdanof  began  his  tale.  She  listened  silently,  as  if 
deeply  interested,  only  interrupting  him  when  he  hurried  or 
passed  over  the  details.  The  incidents  were  not  equally 
interesting  to  her,  however  ;  Fomoushka  and  Fimcushka 
made  her  laugh,  but  interested  her  little  ;  their  way  of  life 
was  too  far  removed  from  her  ideas. 

*'  It  is  as  if  you  were  telling  me  about  Nebuchadnezzar," 
she  said,  when  he  was  telling  her  about  them. 

But  what  Markelof  said,  even  what  Goloushkine  thought 
(although  she  at  once  understood  what  sort  of  a  creature 
he  was),  and  above  all  what  Solomine's  opinions  were,  and 
what  kind  of  man  he  was,  these  were  the  things  she  wished 
to  know,  and  which  interested  her  intensely. 

"  But  when  are  you  going  to  act  ? " 

When  ?  This  was  the  question  which  was  constantly 
upon  her  lips  and  in  her  mind,  while  Neshdanof  was  talk- 
ing. And  as  for  him,  he  seemed  to  avoid  everything  which 
could  in  any  way  answer  this  question.  He  finally,  him- 
self, perceived   that  just  those  details  upon  which  he  dwelt 


1 66  VIRGIN-  SOIL. 

the  most,  interested  Marianne  the  least,  and  that  he  kept 
returning  to  them  in  spite  of  himself. 

His  humorous  descriptions  bored  Marianne  ;  his  sad,  un- 
enthusiastic  way  of  speaking  pained  her.  She  only  wished 
to  hear  about  the  "  work,"  the  "  question."  No  discourse 
upon  this  subject  seemed  tedious  to  her.  Neshdanof  was 
reminded  of  the  time,  before  he  was  a  student,  when  he 
passed  a  summer  with  some  friends  in  the  country  ;  he 
used  to  tell  stories  to  their  children,  and  they  also  appreci- 
ated neither  descriptions  nor  purely  personal  impressions  ; 
they  also  demanded  active  deeds  !  Marianne  was  not  a 
child,  but  she  had  the  pure  and  simple  impressions  of  one. 

Neshdanof  praised  Markelof  warmly  and  sincerely,  and 
spoke  of  Solomine  with  the  greatest  appreciation.  In  the 
middle  of  his  enthusiastic  description,  he  asked  himself  on 
what  he  based  the  high  opinion  he  had  formed  of  this  man. 
Solomine  had  not  said  anything  especially  remarkable, 
some  of  his  words  were  in  fact  directly  opposed  to  Neshda- 
nof's  convictions. 

"  He  has  a  well-balanced  character,"  he  said  to  himself  ; 
"  that's  it  ;  he  is  exact,  steady,  fresh,  as  Fimoushka  said  ; 
he  is  a  man,  a  tranquil,  solid  force  ;  he  knows  what  he 
wants  and  has  confidence  in  himself,  and  he  awakens  con- 
fidence in  others  ;  he  is  never  disturbed  ;  equilibrium, 
equilibrium  !  that  is  the  important  thing,  and  that  is  just 
what  I  lack." 

Neshdanof  interrupted  himself  and  remained  plunged  in 
his  reflections. 

Suddenly  he  felt  the  touch  of  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

He  raised  his  head.  Marianne's  eyes  were  fixed  on  him 
with  a  tender  solicitude. 

"  My  friend,  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

He  took  the  hand  that  lay  on  his  shoulder  and  kissed  for 
the  first  time  this  little  hand,  that  was  at  the  same  time 
pretty  and  strong.  Marianne  laughed  gayly,  as  if  aston- 
ished that  it  had  occurred  to  him  to  pay  her  such  a  pretty 
attention.     Then  in  her  turn  she  became  pensive. 

"  Did  Markelof  show  you  Mme.  Sipiagin's  letter  ? "  she 
asked  at  length. 

"  Yes." 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  167 

"  And — what  did  he  say  ? " 

"  He  ?     He  is  generosity,  self-sacrifice  itself.     He —  " 

Neshdanof  was  going  to  speak  to  Marianne  of  the  por- 
trait, but  he  checked  himself,  and  contented  himself  with 
repeating,  "  He  is  generosity  personified." 

"  Oh  !     Yes,  yes  !  " 

Marianne  again  became  thoughtfid,  then  suddenly  turn- 
ing toward  Neshdanof,  she  said  quickly  : 

"Well,  then — what  have  you  decided  ?" 

Neshdanof  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  But  I  told  you  there  is  nothing  decided  as  yet ;  we 
must  wait  awhile.'* 

"  Wait  awhile  ?     Wait  for  what  ?  " 

"The  latest  instructions  (I  know  well  enough  that  I 
lie,"  thought  Neshdanof). 

"  From  whom  ?  " 

"  From — you  know — Vassili  NicholaTvitch.  And  then 
we  must  also  await  Ostrodumof's  return." 

Marianne  looked  at  Neshdanof  with  a  questioning  air. 

"  Tell  me,  did  you  ever  see  this  Vassili  Nicholai'vitch  ? " 

"  I  have  seen  him  twice — for  a  moment." 

"  Well — is  he  a  remarkable  man  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell  you  ?  He  is  our  chief,  and  directs 
everything ;  without  discipline  the  work  could  not  ad- 
vance ;  we  must  know  how  to  obey.  (All  that  is  also  noth- 
ing but  mere  talk,"  thought  Neshdanof  once  more.) 

"  How  does  he  look  ?  " 

"  He  is  short,  thick-set,  and  has  a  dark  complexion  ;  be 
has  a  harsh  face,  with  prominent  eyeballs — a  Tartar  face 
— but  with  very  lively  eyes." 

"  How  does  he  talk  ?  " 

"  He  commands  rather  than  talks." 

"  And  why  is  he  the  chief  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  man  of  strong  will.  He  yields  to  none.  He 
would  kill  any  one,  if  it  were  necessary.  In  short,  they  arc 
afraid  of  him." 

"  And  what  is  Solomine  like  ?  "  asked  Marianne,  after  a 
moment. 

"  Solomine  is  not  handsome  either ;  but  he  has  an  excel- 
lent face,  simple  and  loyal  looking — one  meets  with  such 


1 68  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

heads  among  the  divinity  students — the  good  ones  I  mean, 
of  course." 

Neshdanof  gave  a  detailed  description  of  Solomine.  Ma- 
rianne looked  at  Neshdanof  for  a  long,  long  time.  Then, 
as  if  speaking  to  herself  : 

"  You  have  a  good  face  too.  I  think  life  spent  with  you 
would  be  easy." 

These  words  touched  Neshdanof,  who  took  her  hand 
again  as  if  about  to  raise  it  to  his  lips. 

"You  are  too  polite,"  Marianne  said  smilingly.  She 
always  smiled  when  her  hand  was  kissed.  "  You  don't 
know,"  she  went  on,  "that  I  have  to  apologize  to  you." 

"  For  what  ?  " 

"  Why,  while  you  were  away,  I  went  into  your  room,  and 
saw  upon  your  table  a  little  volume  of  poetry  " — Neshdanof 
trembled,  for  he  remembered  that  he  had  in  fact  left  the 
little  book  on  his  table — "  and  I  confess  that  I  could  not 
overcome  my  curiosity,  and  I  read  it.  They  are  your  verses, 
are  they  not  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  you  know  now,  Marianne,  what  proves  better 
than  anything  else  could,  how  much  I  am  attached  to  you, 
and  how  much  I  trust  you.  I  am  hardly  angry  with  you 
for  this." 

"  Hardly  ?  Then  you  are,  a  little  ?  But  now  I  want 
you  to  call  me  by  my  name.  I  can  never  call  you  Nesh- 
danof. I  shall  call  you  Alexis.  And  that  little  poem  be- 
ginning 

'  Dear  friend,  when  I  am  dying,' 

is  that  yours,  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes.  But  please  don't  speak  of  it  again.  Don't 
torment  me." 

Marianne  shook  her  head. 

"  That  is  a  very  sad  poem.  I  hope  you  wrote  it  before 
we  met.  But  the  verses  are  excellent,  so  far  as  I  can  judge. 
I  think  you  could  become  a  writer.  But  I  am  sure  that 
you  have  something  to  do  better  and  higher  than  that  of  a 
mere  writer.  Writing  was  an  excellent  thing  once,  so  long 
as  there  was  nothing  else  to  be  done." 

Neshdanof  glanced  at  her  quickly. 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


169 


"  You  mean — ?  Yes,  'tis  true.  Better  to  fail  in  this, 
than  to  succeed  in  that." 

Marianne  suddenly  rose  to  her  feet  with  warmth. 

"  Yes,  my  friend,  you  are  right,"  she  cried,  and  her  face, 
which  was  beautiful  in  its  generous  emotion,  kindled  with 
enthusiasm.  "  You  are  right.  But  perhaps  we  shall  not 
fail  after  all.  We  are  young.  You  shall  see  how  useful  we 
can  be.  Our  life  shall  not  have  been  spent  in  vain.  We 
shall  join  with  the  people.  You  know  some  trade,  don't 
you  ?  No  ?  Never  mind.  We  shall  find  something  to  do. 
We  will  offer  to  them,  to  our  brothers,  all  that  we  can  do. 
If  need  be,  I  wilUcook,  sew,  Avash.  You  shall  see,  you 
shall  see.  And  there  will  be  no  goodness  in  this,  but  hap- 
piness, happiness  !  " 

Marianne  grew  silent,  but  her  look,  fixed  on  the  distant 
scene — not  upon  the  one  that  spread  before  her,  but  upon 
another  far  off  in  the  future,  invisible  to  all  but  her — her 
look  was  burning. 

Neshdanof  bent  over  toward  her,  almost  upon  his  knees. 

"  Oh,  Marianne,"  he  murmured,  "  I  am  not  worthy  of 
you." 

She  started  suddenly. 

"  I  must  go  at  once,"  she  cried,  "  or  else  they  will  be 
sending  some  one  to  look  for  us  again.  Though  for  that 
matter  I  believe  Mme.  Sipiagin  has  given  up  busying  her- 
self about  me.  In  her  eyes,  I  am  an  abandoned  crea- 
ture." 

Marianne,  as  she  pronounced  these  words,  had  upon  her 
face  such  an  expression  of  joy  that  Neshdanof,  gazing  into 
the  young  girl's  eyes,  could  not  keep  from  smiling  as  he  re- 
peated, "  An  abandoned  creature." 

"  But  she  is  dreadfully  offended,"  continued  Marianne, 
"  because  you're  not  at  her  feet.  But  that's  of  no  impor- 
tance ;  listen.  Of  course  I  cannot  remain  here.  We  must 
fly!" 

"  We— fly  ?  " 

"  Yes.  You  do  not  wish  to  remain  here  any  longer,  do 
you  ?  We  will  go  away  together.  We  must  travel  together. 
You  will  come  with  me  ?  " 

"  To  the  end  of  the  world  !  "  cried  Neshdanof,  and  his 


I70  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

voice  suddenly  vibrated  with  emotion,  a  hearty  gratitude. 
"  To  the  end  of  the  world  !  " 

At  that  moment,  in  fact,  he  would  have  gone  with  her, 
without  looking  behind,  no  matter  where  she  led  him. 

Marianne  knew  this  ;  she  gave  a  brief  but  happy  sigh. 

*'  Now,  take  my  hand — only  do  not  kiss  it — and  press  it 
firmly,  like  a  comrade,  a  friend — this  way." 

They  returned  together  to  the  house  silent,  calm,  content. 
The  young  grass  touched  their  feet  lightly.  The  budding 
leaves  rustled  all  around  them.  Flecks  of  shadow  and  of 
sunshine  played  hide  and  seek  upon  their  clothes,  and  both 
smiled  at  this  rapid  and  ever  changing  sport  of  the  light, 
at  the  merry  gusts  of  wind,  at  the  glittering  freshness  of 
the  foliage,  and  at  their  own  youth — and  at  one  another. 


XXIII. 

THE  dawn  had  already  begun  to  break,  when  Solomine, 
having  easily  walked  his  five  versts  after  dining  with 
Goloushkine,  knocked  at  the  little  door  in  the  high  wall 
which  surrounded  the  factory. 

The  night-watchn'ian  opened  it  for  him  at  once,  and,  ac- 
companied by  three  enormous  watch-dogs,  who  wagged 
their  shaggy  tails  without  ceasing,  led  him  to  his  room  with 
marked  respect. 

"  You  have  got  back  early,  Mr.  Solomine.  We  did  not 
expect  you  until  morning." 

"  Bah  !    it's  pleasanter  walking  by  night." 

The  relations  that  existed  between  Solomine  and  his 
workmen  were  pleasant,  although  a  little  out  of  the  ordinary 
way.  The  workmen  respected  him  as  a  superior,  but 
treated  him  as  an  equal,  as  one  of  themselves.  In  their 
eyes  he  was  a  man  who  knew  his  business  very  well. 

"  When  Vassili  Fedotofif  says  anything,"  they  would  say 
to  one  another,  "  it  is  sacred,  because  he  is  a  famous 
scholar,  and  he  beats  all  the  Aglitchas  "  (English). 

The  workmen  remembered  that  a  great  English  manu- 
facturer had  come  one  day  to  visit  the  factory,  and, 
whether  it  was  because  Solomine  spoke  English,  or  out  of 
real  respect  for  his  knowledge,  this  Englishman  patted  Sol- 
omine several  times  upon  the  shoulder,  asked  him  laughing- 
ly if  he  would  like  to  come  with  him  to  Liverpool,  and 
then  turning  to  the  workmen,  said  in  his  broken  Russian, 
"  She  good  man,  oh,  very  good  man  !  "  This  made  the 
workmen  laugh  heartily,  and  they  said,  not  without  pride  : 

"  Ah,  our  superintendent  is  hard  to  beat,  and  he  is  one 
of  us  !  " 

The  next  morning  Solomine  was  awakened  by  his  favor- 
ite Paul,  who,  as  he  helped  him  dress,  told  him  the  news  and 

171 


172  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

asked  after  his  budget.  They  then  took  a  cup  of  tea  to- 
gether hurriedly,  and  Solomine,  having  drawn  on  his  old 
work  jacket,  Avent  down  to  the  factory,  and  his  hfe  began 
anew  to  turn  as  regularly  as  the  wheel  of  a  machine. 
But  another  interruption  was  in  store  for  him. 
Five  days  after  his  return,  Solomine  saw  entering  the 
courtyard  of  the  factory  an  elegant  carriage  drawn  by 
four  superb  horses,  and  immediately  a  lackey  in  gray 
livery,  introduced  by  Paul,  handed  him  solemnly  a  sealed 
letter,  bearing  the  coat  of  arms  of  "  His  Excellency,  Gen- 
eral Sipiagin." 

In  this  letter,  all  impregnated,  not  with  perfume — that 
would  be  too  common — but  with  a  peculiar  English  scent 
as  marked  as  it  was  disagreeable — in  this  letter,  written  in 
the  third  person,  it  is  true,  but  with  his  own  proud  hand, 
the  noble  lord  of  the  domain  of  Arjanoie,  apologizing 
first  for  addressing  a  man  to  whom  he  was  personally  un- 
known, but  of  whom  he,  Sipiagin,  had  heard  the  most  flat- 
tering praises,  took  the  "liberty  "  of  inviting  to  his  house 
Mr.  Solomine,  whose  counsel  might  be  of  the  greatest  use 
to  him  upon  the  subject  of  an  important  industrial  enter- 
prise ;  and  in  the  hope  that  Mr.  Solomine  would  have  the 
goodness  to  accept  his  invitation,  he  had  sent  his  carriage 
for  him.  _  In  case,  however,  that  Mr.  Solomine  should  find 
it  impossible  to  absent  himself  to-day,  he  begged  him  to 
appoint  some  other  day,  at  his  convenience,  and  then  he, 
Sipiagin,  would  gladly  place  his  carriage  at  Mr.  Solomine's 
disposal.  Then  came  the  customary  formula,  followed  by 
his  signature  with  an  elegant  flourish,  quite  worthy  of  a  min- 
ister, and  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add,  absolutely  unde- 
cipherable to  any  but  the  initiated. 

The  letter  ended  with  a  postscript,  this  time  in  the  first 
person. 

"  I  trust  that  you  will  not  refuse  to  come  to  dinner  with- 
out ceremony,  and  in  your  morning  dress." 

The  words  "  without  ceremony  "  v/ere  underlined. 

Accompanying  this  letter,  the  gray-liveried  lackey,  not 
without  some  hesitation,  handed  to  Solomine  an  ordinary 
note,  not  even  sealed.  This  note,  Avritten  by  Neshdanof, 
contained  only  these  words  : 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


173 


"  Come,  I  beseech  you.  We  need  you  very  much  here, 
and  you  can  render  a  great  service — but  not,  I  need 
scarcely  say,  to  Mr.  Sipiagin." 

After  reading  Sipiagin's  letter,  Solomine  thought  to  him- 
self : 

"  Well,  I  should  hardly  go  any  other  way  than  without 
ceremony.  I  never  had  a  dress-coat  in  my  life.  But  why 
the  deuce  should  I  go  poking  over  there  ?  I  should  only 
lose  my  time." 

But  when  h^  had  opened  Neshdanof's  note,  he  scratched 
his  neck,  and  walked  to  the  window,  unable  to  make  up 
his  mind.  ^ 

"  What  reply  will  you  deign  to  send  ?  "  asked  the  gray- 
liveried  lackey  respectfully. 

Solomine  stood  at  the  window  a  moment,  then  at  last 
tossing  back  his  hair,  and  passing  his  hands  over  his  fore- 
head, he  replied  : 

"  I  will  go.     Give  me  time  to  change  my  clothes." 

The  lackey  went  out  with  a  dignified  step.  Solomine 
called  Paul,  spoke  with  him,  and  ran  again  to  the  factory. 
When  he  had  put  on  a  black  coat  with  much  too  long  a 
tail,  and  which  had  been  cut  by  a  tailor's  apprentice,  and  had 
put  upon  his  head  a  somewhat  rusty  tall  hat,  which  gave 
him  a  very  stiff  appearance,  he  got  into  the  carriage  ;  then 
suddenly  remembering  that  he  had  not  taken  any  gloves, 
he  called  the  omnipresent  Paul,  who  ran  to  fetch  him  a 
pair  of  buckskin  glo\es  that  had  been  recently  washed,  so 
that  every  finger  had  swollen  at  the  end,  and  looked  like  a 
biscuit. 

Solomine  stuffed  the  gloves  into  his  pocket,  and  bade 
them  drive  on.  Immediately  the  lackeys,  with  an  energy 
as  unexpected  as  it  was  useless,  leaped  upon  the  box,  the 
well-trained  coachman  uttered  a  shrill  cry  to  start  the 
horses,  and  the  carriage  moved  away. 

While  Solomine  was  rolling  on  toward  Sipiagin's  abode, 
that  statesman  was  sitting  in  his  parlor  with  a  political 
pamphlet,  half  cut,  upon  his  knees,  talking  with  his  wife 
about  the  young  manufacturer.  He  had  written  to  him,  he 
told  his  wife,  for  the  purpose  of  persuading  him  to  leave 
the  Moscow  merchant's  mill,  and  take  charge  of  his  own. 


174  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

which"  was  going  from  bad  to  worse,  and  which  ought  to 
be  completely  reorganized. 

Sipiagin  never  imagined  for  a  moment  that  the  young 
man  might  refuse  to  come,  or  even  that  he  would  put  off 
his  visit  to  another  day,  although  in  his  letter  he  had  left 
him  his  choice. 

"  But  ours  is  a  paper  mill,  and  he  has  charge  of  a  cotton 
mill,"  observed  Mme.  Sipiagin. 

"  That  makes  no  difference,  my  dear.  There  is  machin- 
ery there  as  here.     And  Solomine  is  a  mechanician." 

"  But  how  do  you  know  but  what  he's  a  specialist  ?  " 

"  My  dear,  in  Russia  there  are  no  specialists.  And  be- 
sides, I  repeat,  he  is  a  mechanician." 

Mme.  Sipiagin  smiled. 

"  Be  prudent,  my  dear.  You  have  already  come  to 
grief  with  young  people.  Take  care  that  it  does  not  hap- 
pen again." 

"  You  are  alluding  to  Neshdanof  !  After  all  I  think  I 
have  attained  my  purpose  even  there.  As  an  assistant  for 
Kola  he  is  perfect.  And  then,  you  know,  non  bis  in  idem  ! 
Pardon  my  pedantry — I  mean  that  the  same  thing  never 
happens  twice." 

"  You  think  so  ?  For  my  part,  I  think  in  this  world 
everything  is  repeated,  above  all  everything  in  the  nature 
of  things,  and  especially  among  young  people." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  Sipiagin,  throwing  the 
pamphlet  upon  the  table. 

"  Open  your  eyes,  and  you  will  see  ?  "  she  replied. 

"  Hum  !  "  said  Sipiagin  ;  "  do  you  mean  our  little  stu- 
dent ?  " 

"  Precisely,  our  student." 

"  Hum  !  He  has  been  fancying  something  new  ? "  tap- 
ping his  forehead  with  his  fingers. 

"  Open  your  eves  !  " 

"Marianne?   ^Eh?" 

This  second  "  Eh  ?  "  was  said  in  more  of  a  nasal  tone 
than  the  first. 

"  Open  your  eyes,  I  tell  you." 

Sipiagin  frowned. 

"  Very  good.    But  we'll  clear  this  matter  up  later.    Now, 


{ 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  175 

I  wish  to  say  a  word  to  you.  Very  probably  this  Solomine 
will  be  a  little  frightened — very  naturally — he  is  unused  to 
it.  We  must  be  very  gentle,  so  as  not  to  scare  him.  I 
don't  say  this  on  your  account.  You  are  a  pearl,  and 
when  you  wish  you  can  bewitch  people  with  a  glance. 
_/V/z  sais  quelquechose,  madame.  But  I  mean  it  regarding 
the  others — him,  for  instance." 

He  pointed  with  his  finger  to  a  gray  hat  of  the  latest 
style,  placed  on  a  stand  ;  it  belonged  to  Kallomeitsef,  who 
had  arrived  at  Arjanoie  that  morning. 

"  He's  very  abrupt,  you  know.  He  absolutely  despises 
the  people — a  feeling  I  condemn  absolutely.  Besides,  for 
some  time  I  have  noticed  that  he  seemed  irritated,  and  in- 
clined to  abuse  everything.  Is  it  because  his  affairs  over 
there — "  Sipiagin  made  a  motion  with  his  head — a  vague 
sort  of  sign,  but  his  wife  understood  it — "  are  doing 
badly  ?     Eh  ?  " 

*'  Open  your  eyes,  I  tell  you." 
Sipiagm  drew  himself  up. 

"  Eh  ?  "  This  "  Eh  ?  "  was  spoken  in  a  very  different 
tone — one  much  lower  than  before.  "  Ah,  bah  !  It  may 
happen  that  I  shall  open  them  a  little  too  wide.  They 
had  better  take  care." 

"  That's  your  affair.  But  now  as  to  your  new  young 
man.  If  he  arrives  to-day  you  may  rest  easy,  every  pre- 
caution shall  be  taken." 

It  turned  out  that  the  precautions  were  wholly  unneces- 
sary, Solomine  was  neither  alarmed  nor  abashed. 

When  the  servant  announced  him,  Sipiagin  arose  at 
once,  and  cried  in  a  loud  voice,  so  as  to  be  heard  in  the 
ante-chamber,  "  Show  him  in — of  course  show  him  in." 

Then  he  walked  toward  the  door  of  the  parlor,  and 
stopped  near  it.  Solomine  had  scarcely  crossed  the 
threshold  when  Sipiagin,  whom  he  had  nearly  run  against, 
held  out  both  his  hands,  and  holding  his  head  first  on  one 
side  and  then  on  the  other,  with  an  amiable  smile,  said  as 
if  delighted,  "  Ah,  how  kind  this  is  of  you  !  How  can  I 
thank  you  ?  " 

And  then  he  irnmediately  led  him  to  Mme.  Sipiagin. 
"  This  is  my  wife,  "  said  he,  placing  his  hand  gently  upon 


176  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Solomine's  back,  cis  if  to  push  him  toward  his  wife.  "My 
dear,  let  me  present  to  you  the  leading  machinist  and 
leading  manufacturer  of  this  district,  Vassili" — he  hesi- 
tated— "  Fcdoceivitch  Solomine." 

Mme.  Sipiagin  arose  slightly,  raised  her  beautiful  eyelids 
gracefully,  smiled  upon  the  young  man  with  a  simple  air, 
as  if  to  an  old  acquaintance,  then  offered  him  her  little 
hand,  the  palm  ui)permost,  the  elbow  pressed  against  her 
body,  her  head  bent  slightly  to  one  side,  as  if  she  were 
asking  for  a  little  charity. 

Solomine  gave  the  husband  and  wife  time  to  finish  their 
little  ceremonies,  shook  the  hands  of  both,  and  sat  down 
as  soon  as  he  was  asked. 

Sipiagin  then  inquired  anxiously  if  he  would  not  take 
something.  But  the  young  man  replied  that  he  wanted 
nothing,  that  he  was  in  no  way  fatigued  by  his  journey, 
and  that  he  was  entirely  at  their  disposal. 

"  Might  I  ask  then  if  you  are  willing  to  visit  the  fac- 
tory ? "  asked  Sipiagin  with  the  air  of  one  who  feared  being 
indiscreet,  and  who  scarcely  dared  hope  for  such  a  favor 
from  his  guest. 

"  Immediately,  if  you  would  like,"  replied  Solomine. 

"  Ah,  how  obliging  you  are  !  Shall  I  have  them  harness 
a  droshki,  or  perhaps  you  would  prefer  going  on  foot  ?  " 

"  Your  factory,  I  suppose,  is  not  very  far  off  ?  " 

*'  Half  a  verst,  at  the  most." 

"  Why  should  we  drive  then  ?  " 

"  Very  well.  My  hat  and  cane,  quick.  Come,  my  little 
housekeeper,  quick — my  hat." 

Sipiagin  was  far  more  uneasy  than  his  guest.  He  re- 
peated again,  "  Now,  then,  my  hat,"  and  he,  a  great  digni- 
tary, jumped  about  like  a  noisy  school-boy. 

While  her  husband  was  talking  with  Solomine,  Mme.  Sip- 
iagin had  been  watching  secretly  but  carefully  the  "  new 
young  man." 

He  was  sitting  quietly  in  an  arm-chair,  with  his  two  bare 
hands  placed  upon  his  knees  (he  had  evidently  not  put  on 
his  gloves),  and  was  examining  tranquilly,  but  with  curi- 
osity, the  furniture  and  the  pictures. 

**  What  does  this  mean  ? "  thought  she.  "  He  is  a  plebeian, 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  177 

a  true  plebeian,  and  yet  what  unaffected  manners  he 
has  !  " 

In  fact,  Solomine  was  very  unaffected,  not  at  all  like 
those  who,  while  they  force  themselves  to  appear  natural, 
really  desire  that  they  should  be  noticed,  but  like  a  man 
whose  thoughts  and  feelings  are  very  simple  but  very 
powerful. 

Mme.  Sipiagin  wished  to  open  a  conversation,  but  to  her 
great  surprise  she  could  hardly  find  a  thing  to  say. 

"  Can  it  be,"  she  thought,  "  that  I'm  overawed  by  this 
machinist  ?  " 

"  My  husband,'"  she  began  at  last,  "  ought  to  be  very 
grateful  to  you  for  the  precious  time  that  you  are  sacrificing 
for  his  sake." 

"  It  is  not  very  precious,  madame,"  he  replied,  '*  and 
then  I  am  here  for  but  a  moment."  '^ 

"  The  bear  shows  his  claws,"  thought  she  in  French. 

At  that  moment  her  husband  reappeared  upon  the  sill 
of  the  open  door — a  hat  on  his  head,  a  stick  in  his  hand. 
Turning  half  around,  he  said  with  an  indifferent  air  : 

"  Vassili  Fedoceivitch,  I  am  at  your  service." 

Solomine  arose,  bowed  to  the  lady,  and  followed  Sipia- 

"  This  way — follow  me — this  way,"  repeated  Sipiagin,  as 
if  they  were  in  an  untrodden  forest,  and  Solomine  needed 
a  guide. 

"  Look  out  now ;  there  are  steps  here,  Vassili  Fedocei- 
vitch." 

"  When  you  call  me  by  my  first  name,"  said  Solomine 
without  hurrying,  "  remember  that  it  is  not  Fedoceivitch, 
but  Fedotitch." 

Sipiagin  looked  at  him  over  his  shoulder  with  a  sort  of 
terror. 

"  Ah  !  I  ask  your  pardon,  Vassili  Fedotitch." 

"  Oh,  it's  of  no  consequence." 

Just  as  they  were  going  out  of  the  house,  KallomeTtsef 
met  them. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  he  asked  of  Sipiagin,  looking 
askance  at  Solomine.  "  To  the  factory  ?.  Is  this  the  in- 
dividual in  question  ?  "  he  added  in  French. 


178  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Sipiagin  opened  his  eager  eyes,  and  shook  his  head 
shghtly  to  insure  prudence. 

"  Yes,  to  the  factory.  To  show  my  sins  and  wicked- 
nesses to  this  machinist.  Permit  me  to  introduce  to  you 
Mr.  Kallomeitsef,  a  proprietor  of  our  neighborhood,  Mr. 
Solomine." 

Kallomei'tsef  gave  an  almost  imperceptible  nod  or  twoi 
of   his  head,  without  turning  toward  Solomine,  or  even 
looking   at    him.      Solomine,   on  the   other  hand,   looked 
steadfastly  at  Kallomeitsef,  and  a  peculiar  something  passed 
over  his  half-closed  eyes. 

"  May  I  go  with  you  ? "  asked  Kallomeitsef.  "  You 
know  that  I  like  to  be  instructed." 

"  Certainly." 

They  went  out  from  the  courtyard  into  the  road.  They 
had  hardly  gone  twenty  steps,  when  they  saw  the  parish 
priest,  who,  with  cassock  turned  back,  was  returning  to 
the  parsonage.  Kallomei'tsef  left  the  group,  hastened  with 
firm  and  rapid  steps  toward  the  priest,  who  was  much  sur- 
prised and  seemed  a  little  embarrassed,  asked  his  blessing, 
pressed  upon  his  red,  moist  hand  a  resounding  kiss,  and 
turning  toward  Solomine,  threw  him  a  taunting  glance. 
Evidently  he  had  some  knowledge  of  the  new-comer  ;  he 
wished  to  give  a  lesson  to  this  rustic,  whom  everybody 
said  was  so  learned. 

"  Is  this  a  manifestation,  my  dear  friend  ? "  said  Sipiagin 
from  between  his  teeth. 

Kallomeitsef  turned  up  his  nose. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  friend,  a  manifestation  that  is  very 
necessary  in  these  times." 

When  they  arrived  at  the  factory  they  were  met  by  a 
Little  Russian  with  an  immense  beard  and  false  teeth,  who 
had  replaced  the  German  attendant.  This  Little  Russian 
was  there  only  provisionally.  He  seemed  absolutely  in- 
competent. He  did  nothing  but  say  all  the  time,  "  See 
there  !  "  and  "  If  it  please  God,"  and  sigh  perpetually. 

The  inspection   of    the   factory   began.     Many  of   the 
workmen   knew  Solomine  by  sight,  and   bowed   to   him. 
He  even  spoke  to  one  of  them. 
,     "  Ah,  good  day,  Gregory — you  here  ?  "   He  was  not  long 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


179 


in  finding  out  that  the  business  was  badly  managed.  A 
great  deal  of  money  had  been  spent,  but  without  discretion. 
The  machines  were  of  a  bad  make.  Many  of  them 
were  useless  and  superfluous,  while  many  very  necessary 
things  were  lacking. 

Sipiagin  looked  at  him  constantly  straight  in  the  face  to 
ascertain  his  opinion,  and  questioned  him  timidly.  He 
asked  him  if  he  thought  it  was  in  good  order. 

"The  order  is  all  right,"  replied  Solomine.  "  But  does 
it  yield  a  revenue  ?     I  doubt  it." 

Sipiagin  and  even  Kallomei'tsef  felt  that  the  young  man 
was  perfectly  at  home  in  the  factory,  that  he  was  familiar 
with  everything,  even  to  the  smallest  detail.  He  placed 
his  hand  upon  a  machine,  as  a  horseman  places  his  upon 
the  neck  of  his  steed  ;  he  touched  a  wheel  with  his  fingers' 
end,  and  the  wheel  stopped  or  began  again  to  turn  ;  he 
took  from  the  vat,  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  a  little  of  the 
pulp  from  which  the  paper  was  made,  and  immediately 
the  pulp  betrayed  its  every  defect. 

He  scarcely  spoke  ;  he  did  not  even  look  at  the  attend- 
ant, the  Little  Russian.  He  left  the  factory  without  say- 
ing a  word.  Sipiagin  and  Kallomeitsef  walked  behind 
him. 

Sipiagin  allowed  no  one  to  accompany  him.  He  even 
stamped  his  feet,  and  ground  his  teeth. 

"  I  see  by  your  manner,"  he  said  at  last  to  the  young 
man,  "  that  you  are  not  pleased  with  my  establishment,  and 
I  know  very  well  myself  that  it  is  not  in  good  condition, 
that  it  is  in  a  very  bad  state  ;  but  tell  me  exactly — I  be- 
seech you,  without  ceremony — what  are  its  principal  de- 
fects, and  what  ought  to  be  done  to  correct  them." 

"  Paper-making  is  not  my  trade,"  replied  Solomine  ;  "  all; 
that  I  can  say  is  that  industrial  establishments  are  not 
the  things  for  gentlemen." 

"  You  look  upon  such  occupations  as  humiliating  to  gen- 
tlemen ?  "  asked  Kallomei'tsef. 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all.  What  is  there  humiliating  in  them  ? 
Still,  even  if  there  were,  the  nobility  would  not  be  fit  for 
them." 

"  What  ?     How  ?  " 


I  So  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  I  would  simply  say,"  continued  Solomine  quietly, 
"  that  noblemen  are  not  accustomed  to  that  sort  of  occu- 
pation. To  succeed  in  it,  it  is  necessary  to  have  the  true 
commercial  spirit,  to  look  at  everything  from  a  new  point 
of  view.  You  must  have  persistence  and  patience.  No- 
blemen seldom  understand  these  conditions.  Do  we  not 
see  this  always  and  everywhere  ?  They  build  factories  for 
cloth,  paper,  cotton,  and  into  whose  hands  do  these  finally 
fall  ?  Into  the  hands  of  the  merchants.  It  is  too  bad, 
for  merchants  are  nothing  but  leeches.  But  it  can't  be 
helped." 

"  According  to  you,  then,"  cried  Kallomei'tsef,  "  we 
noblemen  are  not  capable  of  understanding  questions  of 
finance  ?  " 

"  Oh,  on  the  contrary — the  nobility  are  masters  in 
finance — of  a  certain  sort.  For  petitioning  for  and  obtain- 
ing grants  for  railways,  for  organizing  banks,  for  obtaining 
monopolies,  and  all  that  follows,  no  one  surpasses  the 
nobility.  It  was  to  that  that  I  alluded,  when  you  took  the 
trouble  to  get  angry.  But  I  am  speaking  of  the  regular 
business  enterprises  :  opening  taverns,  retail  shops,  loaning 
grain  or  money  to  the  peasants  on  interest  at  one  hundred 
or  five  hundred  per  cent.,  as  so  many  of  our  noble  pro- 
prietors are  doing  at  this  moment  ;  these,  in  my  opinion, 
are  not  financial  operations  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word." 

Kallomei'tsef  made  no  reply.  He  belonged  to  precisely 
this  new  race  of  usurious  proprietors — of  whom  Markelof 
had  spoken  in  his  last  interview  with  Neshdanof — and  he 
was  the  more  inhuman  in  his  demands,  as  he  never  dealt 
directly  with  the  peasants  (to  whom  admittance  to  his  per- 
fumed study  was  of  course  forbidden),  but  communicated 
with  them  only  through  the  intervention  of  a  clerk. 

As  he  listened  to  the  remarks  which  the  young  man  let 
fall  from  his  lips  slowly,  and  with  apparent  indifference, 
he  fumed  inwardly,  but  for  the  time  he  kept  silence,  and 
the  play  in  the  muscles  of  his  cheeks,  caused  by  the  con- 
vulsive pressure  of  his  jaws,  alone  betrayed  what  was  pass- 
ing within. 

"  But  allow  me — allow  me,  Mr.  Solomine,"  replied  Sip- 
iagin  :  "  all  that  you  have  said  was  perfectly  true  in  the 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  l8l 

past,  when  noblemen  enjoyed  entirely  different  rights, 
when  they  found  themselves  in  a  different  situation.  But 
now,  after  all  the  beneficent  reforms  which  have  been  ac- 
complished in  our  busy  era,  why  cannot  noblemen  turn 
their  attention,  their  capacities,  in  short,  to  such  enter- 
prises ?  Why  should  they  not  be  capable  of  understand- 
ing what  a  simple,  and  sometimes  illiterate,  merchant 
understands  ?  They  certainly  do  not  lack  intellectual 
development,  and  one  may  even  affirm,  with  almost  abso- 
lute certainty,  that  they  are,  to  a  certain  point,  the  repre- 
sentatives of  civilization  and  of  progress." 

^ipiagin  spoke  Very  well.  His  eloquence  might  have 
had  a  great  success,  no  matter  where,  at  St.  Petersburg,  in 
the  presence  of  the  ministry,  or  even  higher  still,  but  it 
produced  not  the  sHghtest  impression  upon  Solomine. 

"  Noblemen  cannot  manage  this  sort  of  thing,"  he  re- 
peated once  more. 

"  Buc  why  not  ?  why  not  ?  "  almost  shouted  Kallomeit- 
sef. 

"  Because  the  noblemen  are  the  true  employees,  the 
tchinovniksr 

"  The  khinoviiiki,  ?" 

Kallomeitsef  wore  a  caustic,  malicious  sneer. 

"  Will  you  not  be  likely  to  be  called  to  account,  Mr. 
Solomine,  for  what  you  have  said  ?  " 

Solomine  continued  to  smile. 

"  Why  do  you  think  that,  Mr.  Kolomentsof  "  (Kallomeit- 
sef started  at  hearing  his  name  thus  "  mutilated  ").  "  Rest 
assured  that  I  am  always  ready  to  render  my  account." 

"  Then   explain  what  you  mean  by  that  expression." 

"  This  is  what  I  mean.  From  my  point  of  view,  every 
tchiiiovnik  is,  and  always  will  be,  a  stranger,  an  intruder  ; 
and  the  noblemen,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  have  become 
strangers  and  intruders." 

Kallomeitsef  laughed  in  the  heartiest  manner. 

"  Pray  excuse  me,  my  dear  sir,  but  I  don't  understand  a 
word  of  all  this  you  are  advancing." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  you.  Try  hard — and  perhaps 
you  will  understand," 

"  Sir  !  " 


1 82  VIRGLY  SOIL. 

''  Gentlemen,  gentlemen  !  "  Sipiagin  again  hastened  to 
say,  seeming  to  seek  for  some  one  that  he  could  not  find, 
"  I  beg  of  you — please,  Kallomei'tsef,  I  beg  of  you  calm 
yourself.  Dinner  must  be  ready.  Follow  me,  I  beg  of 
you,  gentlemen." 

Five  minutes  after,  Kallomei'tsef,  entering  like  a  bomb- 
shell into  Mme.  Sipiagin's  boudoir,  cried  out  : 

"  Valentine  Michaelovna  !  If  you  only  knew  what  your 
husband  has  done  !  One  Nihilist  he  introduced  into  your 
house,  and  here  he  has  brought  another.  And  this  one  is 
even  worse  than  the  first !  " 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  He  has  been  setting  forth  Heaven  knows 
what  opinions  ;  and  besides  that — think  of  it  ! — he  spoke 
for  a  whole  hour  with  your  husband,  and  never  once  ad- 
dressed him  as  '  Your  Excellency.'     The  vagabond  !  " 


XXIV. 

AFTER  dinner,  Sipiagin  called  his  wife  into  his  study. 
He  wanted  to  speak  with  her  alone. 

He  confided  to  her  the  sad  condition  of  the  factory  ;  he 
added  that  Solomiife  appeared  to  be  an  intelligent  man, 
though  somewhat — talkative  ! — and  they  must  continue  to 
pay  hini  a  little  attention. 

"  Ah,  if  we  could  only  tempt  him  here,  what  a  stroke  of 
business  it  would  be,"  he  repeated  twice. 

Sipiagin  was  much   annoyed  at  Kallomei'tsef's  presence. 

"  Devil  take  him  !  he  sees  Nihilists  everywhere,  and  he 
thinks  only  how  he  shall  exterminate  them.  I  wish  he 
would  exterminate  them  at  home.  He  is  not  able  to  hold 
his  tongue." 

Mme.  Sipiagin  observed  that  she  should  ask  nothing  bet- 
ter than  to  pay  little  attentions  to  the  new  visitor  ;  but  that 
he  seemed  to  stand  in  very  little  need  of  them,  and  that  he 
did  not  seem  to  care  for  them  at  all.  Not  that  he  was 
rude,  but  he  was  indifferent  to  everything,  a  very  aston- 
ishing thing  on  the  part  of  a  man  of  the  people. 

"  Never  mind — do  your  best,  please,"  said  Sipiagin. 

Mme.  Sipiagin  promised  to  do  her  best,  and  she  kept  her 
word.  She  had  an  interview  at  once  with  Kallome'itsef. 
No  one  knew  what  she  said  to  him,  but  he  sat  down  at 
table  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  resolved  to  remain  calm 
and  discreet  whatever  he  might  hear. 

This  air  of  determined  resignation  gave  him  a  sHght  tinge 
of  melancholy,  but  then  the  dignity  that  there  was  in  his 
every  motion  ! 

Mme.  Sipiagin  presented  Solomine  to  every  person  in  the 
house  (he  looked  at  Marianne  more  attentively  that  at  the 
others),  and  she  had  him  sit  at  her  right  hand  at  the  dinner 
table.     Kallomcitsef  was  at  her  left.     As  he  unfolded  his 

183 


1 84  VIRGIN  SOIL, 

napkin,  he  half  closed  his  eyes,  and  smiled,  as  if  he  would 
say,  "  Come,  gentlemen,  let  us  play  out  our  comedy." 

Sipiagin  sat  opposite,  and  watched  him  with  some 
anxiety. 

In  consequence  of  the  new  disposition  of  seats,  Nesh- 
dan'of  was  no  longer  near  Marianne.  He  was  placed  be- 
tween Sipiagin  and  Anna  Zakharovna. 

Marianne  found  her  card  (it  was  a  ceremonious  dinner) 
upon  the  napkin  between  Kallomei'tsef  and  Kola. 

The  dinner  was  handsomely  served.  There  was  even 
put  before  each  plate  a  7neiiu  written  upon  a  little  illumin- 
ated sheet  of  paper. 

Immediately  after  the  soup,  Sipiagin  turned  the  conver- 
sation to  his  factory,  and  upon  the  industrial  production  of 
Russia  in  general.  Solomine,  as  usual,  replied  in  very  brief 
sentences.  When  he  began  to  speak  Marianne  fastened  her 
eyes  upon  him.  Kallomei'tsef,  who  was  sitting  next  her, 
made  some  polite  remarks  to  her  (to  avoid  engaging  in 
the  conversation  as  he  had  promised),  but  she  did  not 
listen  to  him.  However,  he  uttered  his  compliments  with- 
out feeling  them,  merely  to  salve  his  conscience,  being 
very  sure  that  between  this  young  girl  and  himself  there 
was  an  abyss  that  was  not  to  be  passed. 

As  for  Neshdanof,  something  worse  still  lay  between  him 
and  the  master  of  the  house.  Sipiagin  considered  him 
henceforth  as  a  mere  piece  of  furniture,  or  as  empty  space. 
He  had  positively  forgotten  his  very  existence  !  This  new 
position  had  established  itself  so  quickly  and  so  completely 
that  when  Neshdanof  said  a  few  words  during  dinner  in 
reply  to  a  remark  of  Anna's,  Sipiagin  turned  his  head  with 
astonishment,  as  if  he  was  about  to  ask  where  those  sounds 
came  from. 

Evidently  Sipiagin  possessed  some  of  the  qualities  which 
especially  distinguish  our  loftiest  Russian  dignitaries. 

After  the  fish,  Valentine,  who  had  lavished  all  her  graces 
and  fascinations  upon  her  right-hand  neighbor,  that  is  upon 
Solomine,  said  in  English  to  her  husband  across  the  table  : 

"  Our  guest  does  not  drink  wine  ;  perhaps  he  would  take 
some  beer." 

Sipiagin  hastened  to  order  "  some  ale  !  " 


"   VIRGIN-  SOIL.  185 

But  Solomine,  turning  quietly  toward  Valentine,  said  : 

"  Madame,  you  are  probably  not  aware  that  I  passed 
niorfe  than  two  years  in  England,  and  that  I  understand  and 
speak  English.  I  tell  you  this  in  case  you  desire  to  say 
anything  secretly  before  me." 

Valentine  hastened  to  assure  him,  with  a  laugh,  that  the 
precaution  was  useless,  for  he  would  have  heard  nothing 
but  good  of  himself.  In  the  depths  of  her  heart,  she  felt 
that  this  conduct  of  Solomine's  was  a  little  strange,  but  ex- 
ceedingly delicate  in  its  manner. 

Kallomeitsef  was  unable  to  restrain  himself  longer. 

"  You  have  been  in  England,"  he  began,  "  and  you  are 
doubtless  acquainted  with  the  customs  of  the  country.  Al- 
low me  to  ask  you  if  you  think  them  worthy  of  imitation  ?  " 

"  Upon  certain  points,  yes  ;  on  others,  no." 

"  Short  and  sweet,"  replied  Kallomeitsef,  refusing  to  see 
the  signals  made  to  him  by  Sipiagin.  "  You  were  speaking 
of  the  nobility  just  now — you  had  occasion,  I  suppose,  to 
study  those  whom  the  English  call  their  '  landed  gentry.'  " 

"  No,  I  had  not  the  opportunity  ;  I  lived  in  a  wholly 
different  sphere,  but  I  have  formed  my  opinion  about  those 
gentlemen." 

"  Well,  do  you  think  it  impossible  that  such  a  race  of 
landed  gentry  could  exist  here,  and  that  in  any  case  it 
might  be  desirable  ?  " 

"  I  think,  to  tell  the  truth,  that  it  is  impossible,  and 
moreover  that  it  would  be  very  undesirable." 

"  Why  so,  my  dear  Mr.  Solomine  ? " 

This  "  dear  Mr.  Solomine "  was  thrown  in  to  reassure 
Sipiagin,  who  seemed  to  be  very  restless,  and  was  moving 
uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"  Because  within  twenty  or  thirty  years  your  '  landed 
gentry'  will  disappear." 

"  Permit  me,  my  dear  sir,"  continued  Kallomeitsef, 
"  but  what  makes  you  think  that  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you.  The  land  will  then  belong  to  proprie- 
tors, without  regard  to  their  birth." 

"  To  the  merchants  ?  " 

"  The  greater  part,  without  doubt,  to  the  merchants." 

"  And  in  what  way  will  this  come  about  ?  " 


lS6  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  Simply  because  the  merchants  will  buy  the  land." 

"  From  tlie  noblemen  ?  " 

'^  From  the  noblemen." 

Kallomeitsef  smiled  with  a  condescending  air. 

"  You  said  the  same  thing,  if  my  memory  serves  me, 
apropos  of  the  factories  and  industrial  establishments. 
And  now  you  say  it  of  the  entire  soil  ? " 

''  And  now  I  say  it  of  the  entire  soil." 

"  And  you  will  be  delighted  at  such  a  result,  I  sup- 
pose ? " 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world.  I  told  you  just  now  the 
people  will  be  none  the  happier  for  it." 

Kallomeitsef  raised  his  hand  slightly,  as  if  to  say,  "  What 
solicitude  for  the  people  !  " 

"  Monsieur  Solomine  !  "  cried  Sipiagin  as  loud  as  he 
could,  "  they  have  brought  you  some  beer.  Come,  Sim- 
eon," he  added,  in  a  low  tone. 

But  Kallomeitsef  was  fairly  launched. 

"  I  see,"  he  continued,  again  addressing  Solomine,  "  that 
you  have  no  very  favorable  opinion  of  the  merchants,  but 
they  have  their  origin  in  the  people." 

"  Perfectly  true." 

"  I  thought  that  everything  pertaining  to  the  people, 
however  distantly,  seemed  perfect  in  your  eyes." 

"  Oh,  no,  sir.  You  are  greatly  mistaken  in  thinking 
that.  Our  people  merit  reproach  in  many  ways,  although 
they  are  not  always  to  blame.  Our  merchants,  up  to  the 
present  time,  are  sharpers.  They  carry  on  their  business 
like  sharpers.  What's  to  be  done  ?  They  have  been 
fleeced  ;  they  fleece  in  their  turn.     As  to  the  people —  " 

"  Well,  as  to  the  people  ?  "  repeated  Kallomeitsef,  in  a 
sharp  tone. 

"  They  are  sleeping." 

"  And  you  would  awaken  them  ?  " 

"  It  would  not  be  such  a  bad  thing." 

"Ah,  that's  what  you  are  at  !  " 

"Allow  me,  allow  me,"  interposed  Sipiagin  in  an  impera- 
tive voice.  He  saw  that  the  time  had  come  to  interpose  a 
barrier,  and  he  interposed  it.  Leaning  the  elbow  of  his 
right  arm  upon  the  table,  and  waving  the  hand  of  this  arm 


VIRGIN  SOU.  rS^ 

in  the  air  to  the  right  and  then  to  the  left,  he  delivered  a 
long  and  very  ministerial  discourse.  In  the  first  place,  he 
praised  the  Conservatives  ;  then  he  expressed  his  approval 
of  the  Liberals,  according  a  slight  preference  to  the  lat- 
ter, with  whom  he  declared  he  sided.  He  extolled  the 
people,  but  not  without  pointing  out  their  weaknesses  ;  he 
expressed  entire  confidence  in  the  government,  but  asked 
if  all  the  underlings  conformed  to  its  fostering  intentions. 
He  proclaimed  the  use  and  importance  of  literature,  but  he 
observed  that  moderation  should  be  the  sine  qua  non  of  its 
existence.  He  turned  his  attention  toward  the  West :  he 
first  rejoiced,  then  expressed  doubts.  He  turned  to  the 
East :  he  was  firsi*  all  tranquility,  then  Avas  full  of  hope. 
And  finally,  he  proposed  a  toast  to  the  triple  alliance, 
Religioli,  Agriculture,  and  Trade. 

"  Beneath  the  shield  of  Power,"  added  Kallomei'tsef  in  a 
severe  tone. 

"  Beneath  the  shield  of  a  power,  at  once  wise  and  benefi- 
cent," corrected  Sipiagin. 

The  guests  drank  in  silence.  The  empty  space  on  the 
left  of  the  orator,  or  in  other  words,  Neshdanof,  gave  forth, 
it  is  true,  a  word  of  disapproval  ;  but  having  attracted  no 
one's  attention,  it  relapsed  into  silence,  and  the  dinner 
came  pleasantly  to  an  end,  undisturbed  by  any  new  dis- 
cussion. 

Valentine,  with  the  most  ravishing  smile,  offered  Solo- 
mine  a  cup  of  coffee.  He  declined  it,  and  was  already 
casting  his  eyes  about  for  his  hat,  when  Sipiagin  passed  his 
hand  gently  through  his  arm,  led  him  into  his  study,  and 
first  offering  him  a  capital  cigar,  he  proposed  placing  his 
factory  under  his  charge,  upon  the  most  favorable  terms. 

"  You  will  be  absolute  master,  Mr.  Solomine,  absolute 
master." 

Solomine  accepted  the  cigar,  but  declined  the  proposi- 
tion. The  most  pressing  entreaties  on  the  part  of  Sipiagin 
could  not  shake  him. 

"At  least  don't  give  me  a  positive  'no,' my  dear  Mr. 
Solomine,  but  say  that  you  will  reflect  upon  it  until  to-mor- 
row." 

"  It  will  be  the  same  then,  for  I  cannot  accept." 


1 88  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  Until  to-morrow,  I  beg  of  you  !  What  can  that  favor 
cost  you  ?  " 

Solomine  was  forced  to  admit  that  as  a  matter  of  fact  it 
would  cost  him  nothing.  Nevertheless,  on  leaving  the 
study,  he  began  at  once  to  look  for  his  hat.  But  Nesh- 
danof,  with  v/hom,  up  to  this  moment,  he  had  had  no  op- 
portunity of  exchanging  a  word,  approached  him  and  said 
quickly  : 

"  Don't  go  away,  I  beg  of  you,  for  we  have  not  had  our 
talk." 

Solomine  put  down  his  hat,  and  at  this  moment  Sipiagin, 
seeing  him  walking  irresolutely  in  the  parlor,  cried  out  to 
him  : 

"  You  will  pass  the  night  with  us,  will  you  not  ?  Of 
course  you  will." 

"  I  am  at  your  service,"  replied  Solomine. 

Marianne,  from  the  recess  of  the  window  threw  him  a 
look  so  full  of  gratitude  that  he  grew  thoughtful  at  once. 


XXV. 

BEFORE  seeing  Solomine,  Marianne  had  pictured  him 
as  a  very  different  person.  At  the  first  glance,  he  ap- 
peared commonplace,  like  the  ordinary  run  of  men.  She 
had  certainly  seen «in  her  life  many  men  just  like  him,  fair, 
thin,  and  muscular. 

But  as  she  watched  him  and  listened  to  what  he  said,  she 
felt  a  growing  confidence  in  him.  It  was  indeed  a  feeling  of 
confidence,  and  nothing  else,  that  he  inspired.  This  man, 
with  his  quiet  manner,  not  at  all  awkward,  but  a  little  heavy, 
could  be  neither  a  liar  nor  a  braggart,  and  one  might  lean 
upon  him  as  upon  a  stone  wall.  He  would  not  betray — 
more  than  that,  he  would  understand  and  sustain  you. 
Marianne  ended  by  persuading  herself  that  Solomine  must 
have  made  the  same  impression  not  only  upon  herself,  but 
upon  all  who  were  present.  She  attributed  no  particular 
importance  to  what  he  said — all  these  discussions  about  the 
factories  and  merchants  hardly  interested  her ;  but  what 
pleased  her  so  much  was  the  way  in  which  he  spoke,  the 
look,  the  smiie  which  accompanied  it. 

He  was  a  truthful  man,  which  was  the  most  important 
thing  in  her  eyes,  and  the  one  that  influenced  her  most. 

There  is  one  thing  certain,  although  difficult  to  explain  : 
the  Russians  are,  of  all  people  in  the  world,  the  most 
steeped  in  falsehood,  and  yet  they  esteem  and  love  nothing 
so  much  as  honesty.  Moreover,  in  ]\Iarianne's  eyes,  Solo- 
mine was  encircled  with  a  sort  of  aureole — he  was  one  of 
those  whom  Vassili  Nicholaivitch  had  recommended  to  his 
adherents. 

During  dinner  she  had  exchanged  glances  with  Neshdanof 
regarding  him,  and  toward  the  end  of  the  meal  she  sur- 
prised herself  making  comparisons  between  them,  which 
were  not  to  Neshdanoi's  advantage. 

189 


190  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Neshdanof,  it  is  true,  had  many  more  refined  and  more 
agreeable  (qualities  ;  but  his  face  expressed  a  mixture  of  rest- 
less emotions,  spite,  annoyance,  impatience,  and  even  a  cer- 
tain despondency.  He  seemed  to  be  sitting  on  thorns.  He 
would  s'art  to  speak  and  then  suddenly  grow  silent.  His 
laugh  was  forced. 

Solominc,  on  the  other  hand,  although  he  seemed  a  little 
bored,  was  perfectly  at  home.  Simply  seeing  him,  you  felt 
that  this  man's  mode  of  life  was  absolutely  independent  of 
others. 

"  Decidedly,  I  will  ask  his  advice  :  he  will  certainly  tell 
me  something  valuable." 

It  was  she  who  dispatched  Neshdanof  to  him  after  din- 
ner. 

The  evening  passed  off  stupidly  enough.  Fortunately, 
dinner  was  over  late,  and  night  was  not  far  off.  Kallomeit- 
sef  was  politely  distant  and  silent. 

"  What's  happened  to  you  ?  "  said  Mme.  Sipiagin  to  him, 
half  seriously,  half  jokingly.      "Have  you  lost  anything  ?  " 

"Exactly,"  replied  Kallomeitsef.  "The  story  is  told  ot 
one  of  our  generals  of  the  guard,  who  complained  because 
the  soldiers  had  lost  their  step.  '  Go  find  me  this  step, 
cried  he.  And  so  I  say,  '  Go  find  for  me  this  '  Conde- 
scend to  order,  sir.'  The  'sir'  has  disappeared,  and  with  it 
all  respect  and  all  subordination." 

Mme.  Sipiagin  declared  that  she  could  not  aid  him  in  his 
search. 

Encouraged  by  the  success  of  his  speech  at  dinner,  Sipia- 
gin delivered  two  other  little  discourses.  He  discussed  the 
conduct  of  the  government  upon  certain  indispensable 
measures ;  he  even  launched  forth  a  speech,  more  elaborate 
than  subtle,  that  he  had  prepared  especially  for  St.  Peters- 
burg. In  repeating  one  of  the  points  of  the  speech  he  even 
preceded  it  with  the  formula,  "  If  I  may  so  express  myself." 
It  was  apropos  of  one  of  the  ministers  then  in  power ;  he 
spoke  of  him  as  an  uncertain,  vain  spirit,  always  tending 
toward  chimerical  and  illusory  aims.  On  the  other  hand, 
Sipiagin,  not  forgetting  that  he  was  dealing  with  a  Russian, 
a  man  of  the  people,  took  great  care  to  use  certain  expres- 
sions destined  to  show  that  he  was  himself  a  true  Russian, 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  igi 

and  that  the  very  secrets  of  the  life  of  the  people  were  famil- 
iar to  him. 

Thus,  Kallomeitsef  having  remarked  that  the  rain  might 
spoil  the  hay  crop,  he  immediately  replied  with  the  saying, 
"If  the  hay  fails  the  buckwheat  will  thrive."  He  quoted 
also  a  series  of  proverbs,  such  as  : 

"  IMerchandise  without  a  merchant  is  like  an  orphan," 

"Measure  the  cloth  ten  times  before  you  cut  it  once." 

"When  there  is  wheat,  there  is  no  lack  of  bushels." 

"  When  at  St.  George's  Day  birches  have  leaves  as  large 
as  a  farthing,  gather  your  wheat  for  the  feast  of  Our  Lady  of 
Kazan."  , 

Several  times  he  made  mistakes,  and  would  say,  for  in- 
stance (confounding  two  proverbs),  "Leave  the  curlew 
alone  on  his  perch,"  or,  "  Tlie  gold  of  the  cage  feeds  the 
bird." 

But  the  people  before  whom  these  accidents  happened  did 
not  suspect  that  our  true  Russian  had  made  any  mistake,  and 
moreover,  thanks  to  Prince  Kovrijkine,  they  were  already 
accustomed  to  such  Russian  solecisms.  Besides,  Sipiagin 
pronounced  these  proverbs  and  sayings  in  a  peculiar  voice, 
loud,  and  even  a  little  coarse,  a  sort  of  "  peasant's  voice." 

These  sentences,  uttered  at  St.  Petersburg,  in  their  proper 
time  and  place,  would  make  the  lofty  ladies  say  : 

"  How  well  he  knows  the  habits  of  the  people." 

And  the  high  and  mighty  dignitaries  would  add  : 

"Their  habits  and  their  needs.'' 

Valentine  devoted  herself  to  Solomine,  but  the  evident 
lack  of  success  of  all  her  efforts  discouraged  her  ;  and  in 
passing  Kallome'itsef  she  could  not  help  saying  in  an  under- 
tone : 

"Ah,  how  tired  I  am  !  " 

To  which  he  replied  with  an  ironical  bow  : 

"  '  Tu  Vas  voulu,  Georges  Dandm/'" 

At  last,  after  enduring  the  formalities  and  compliments 
that  usually  precede  the  moment  of  breaking  up  of  a  com- 
pany where  we  have  been  very  much  bored,  after  the  sudden 
pressure  of  the  hand,  the  smiles  and  friendly  expressions 
that  custom  requires,  the  visitors  and  their  guests  separated 
equally  tired  out. 


15,2  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Solomine,  after  being  put  in  one  of  the  handsomest 
rooms,  if  indeed  not  the  handsomest,  on  the  second  story, 
furnished  in  the  English  fxshion,  with  a  bath-room  attached, 
went  in  search  of  Neshdanof. 

The  young  student  began  by  thanking  him  warmly  for 
consenting  to  remain. 

"I  know,"  said  he,   "how  great  a  sacrifice  it  was." 

"  Why,"  said  Solomine  in  his  quiet  way,  "what  sacrifice 
Avas  it  ?     But  I  can  refuse  you  nothing." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  have  come  to  look  on  you  as  a  friend." 

Neshdanof  was  as  delighted  as  he  was  surprised.  Solo- 
mine pressed  his  hand.  Then  he  sat  astride  his  chair,  lit 
a  cigar,  and  with  his  elbows  on  the  back,  he  said  : 

"Well,  what's   the  matter.?" 

Neshdanof  seated  himself  in  the  same  way,  but  he  did 
not  light  a  cigar. 

* '  The  matter  1  The  matter  is  that  I  am  going  to  run 
away  ! 

"  You  want  to  leave  .?     Good  Lord  !  " 

"  No,  not  leave,  but  run  away  from  it !  " 

"Are  they  obliging  you  to  stay,  or  have  you  drawn  your 
pay  in  advance.?     If  so,  just  say  the  word,  and  I'll —  " 

"You  don't  understand  me,  my  dear  Solomine;  I  said 
'run  away,'  and  not  'leave,'  because  I  am  not  going 
alone." 

Solomine  raised  his  head. 

"  Whom  are  you  going  with  .?  " 

"  With  the  young  girl  that  you  saw  here  to-day." 

"Ah!  she  is  a  fine-looking  girl.  Do  you  love  one 
another,  or  is  it  merely  that  you  have  decided  to  leave 
together  a  house  in  which  you  are  not  comfortable  .?  " 

"  We  love  one  another." 

"Ah!" 

Solomine  reflected  for  a  moment. 

"  Is  she  a  relative  of  the  family  .?  " 

"Yes.  But  she  shares  all  our  opinions.  She  is  fully 
prepared." 

Solomine  smiled. 

"And  you,  Neshdanof,  are  you  prepared?  " 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  193 

Nesh  dan  of  frowned  slightly. 

"Why  do  you  ask  me  ?     Time  will  show." 

"I  do  not  doubt  you,  Neshdanof ;  if  I  put  the  question, 
it  was  because  I  suspect  that  no  one  except  you  is  prepared." 

"And  Markelof?" 

"Yes,  true.  Markelof.  But  he,  I  suppose,  was  born 
ready." 

At  that  moment,  some  one  knocked  at  the  door  twice, 
quickly  and  cautiously.  .  Then  the  door  was  opened  with- 
out awaiting  a  reply.  It  was  jMarianne.  She  walked 
directly  up  to  Solomine. 

"  I  am  sure,"  sUe  began,  "  that  you  will  not  be  surprised 
at  seeing  me  here  at  this  hour.  He  has  of  course  told  you 
all  "  (pointing  to  Neshdanof).  "  Give  me  your  hand,  and 
be  sure  that  it  is  an  honest  woman  who  stands  before  you." 

"  Yes,  I  am  sure  of  that,"  replied  Solomine  in  a  serious 
tone. 

He  had  arisen  from  his  chair  when  IMarianne  came  in. 

"I  was  watching  you  all  through  dinner,  and  I  said  to 
myself,  What  honest  eyes  she  has  !  Neshdanof  has  told  me 
of  your  project.     But  tell  me  exactly  why  you  wish  to  fly  .?  " 

"Why  .?  Because  of  the  work,  in  which  I  sympathize.  Do 
not  be  surprised,  Neshdanof  has  concealed  nothing  from  me. 
The  work  is  to  begin  in  a  few  days,  and  shall  I  remain  in 
this  aristocratic  house  where  all  is  falsehood  and  deceit  ? 
Those  that  I  love  will  be  in  danger,  and  shall  I —  " 

Solomine  interrupted  her  with  a  gesture. 

"  Do  not  excite  yourself;  take  a  chair  ;  I  will  sit  down 
too.  You  too,  Neshdanof,  sit  down  ;  now  listen.  If  this 
is  the  only  motive,  there  is  no  need  of  going  yet.  The 
work  of  which  you  speak  will  begin  later  than  you  think 
for.  A  little  prudence  will  do  no  harm.  We  should  not 
rush  madly  with  our  eyes  closed,  you  may  be  sure." 

IMarianne  sat  down,  and  wrapped  herself  in  a  large  shawl 
which  she  had  thrown  over  her  shoulders. 

"I  cannot  remain  here  longer  !  Here  every  one  insults 
me  !  This  very  day,  did  not  Anna  speak  to  me  before 
Kola,  aUuding  to  my  father,  that  as  the  twig  is  bent  the 
tree  will  grow.?  Kola,  astonished,  asked  me  what  she 
meant.     As  to  Mme.  Sipiagin,  I  never  speak  to  her  I  " 

13 


19 1  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Solomine  interrupted  her  again,  this  time  with  a  smile; 
Marianne  felt  that  he  was  amused  by  her,  but  Solomine's 
smile  never  wounded  any  one. 

"  What  is  all  this  about,  my  dear  young  lady  ?  I  neither 
know  this  Anna,  nor  understand  your  allusion  to  the  tree. 
But  what  does  it  amount  to  ?  A  silly  woman  makes  a  silly 
sjjeech  to  you,  and  you  cannot  bear  it !  How  then  will  you 
live  ?  The  whole  world  is  made  up  of  silly  people  1  This 
is  no  good  reason.     Have  you  no  other  ?" 

"I  am  convinced,"  interposed  Neshdanof,  in  a  hard 
voice,  "  that  some  day  or  other  Mr.  Sipiagin  will  send  me 
away.  It  has  certainly  been  talked  about.  He  treats  me 
in  the  most  contemptuous  manner  !  " 

Solomine  turned  to  Neshdanof.  "  Why  run  away,  then,  if 
you  are  sure  they  are  going  to  send  you  away  ?  " 

Neshdanof  was  confused  for  a  moment. 

"  I  have  already  explained  to  you — "  he  began. 

"He  goes  because  I  am  to  go  with  him,"  cried  Mari- 
anne. 

Solomine  looked  at  her,  and  shaking  his  head  pleasantly, 
"Yes,  exactly,  my  dear  young   lady;   but   I  repeat  that  if 
you   are  really  leaving  this   house  because  you  imagine  that 
the  revolution  is  about  to  burst — " 

"It  was,"  interrupted  Marianne,  "to  consult  you  on 
these  matters  that  we  begged  you  to  come." 

"In  that  case,"  continued  Solomine,  "you  can  re- 
main in  this  house,  and  for  some  time.  But  if  you  wish  to 
go  because  you  love  one  another,  and  you  have  no  other 
means  of  being  united,  in  that  case — " 

"In  that  case?  " 

"  It  only  remains  for  me  to  wish  you,  according  to  the  old 
formula,  love  and  concord,  and  to  aid  you  to  the  extent  of 
my  ability,  if  it  is  necessary  and  possible.  For  at  the 
very  first  sight,  I  felt  toward  you  both  as  a  brother." 

Marianne  and  Neshdanof  approached  him  simultane- 
ously, and  seized  his  hands. 

"Tell  us  only  what  we  must  do,"  cried  Marianne.  "The 
revolution  is  still  in  the  distance ;  so  be  it !  But  only  tell 
us  what  steps,  what  preparations  are  necessary — though 
preparations  are  impossible  in  this  house,  and  under  these 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  195 

circumstances — and  we  will  do  what  we  can  with  a  full  heart 
together  !  Only  tell  us  where  we  should  go.  Send  us.  You 
will  send  us,  will  you  not?" 

"Where?" 

"  Among  the  people,  of  course  !  " 

*'  Into  the  forest?  "  thought  Neshdanof,  who  recalled  Pak- 
line's  words. 

Solomine  looked  attentively  at  Marianne. 

"  You  wish  to  know  the  people  ?  " 

"  Yes,  not  only  to  know  them,  but  to  act,  to  work  for 
them." 

"Very  well;  L  promise  that  you  shall  know  them.  I 
will  give  you  the  means  of  acting,  of  working  for  them. 
And  you,  Neshdanof,  do  you  purpose  devoting  yourself  to 
her,  and  to  the  people  ?  " 

"Undoubtedly,"  replied  Neshdanof  quickly.  "Jugger- 
naut," thought  he,  recalling  once  more  Pakline's  words, 
"see  the  enormous  chariot  advancing.  I  hear  already  the 
grinding  and  rumbling  of  its  wheels." 

"Very  well,"  said  Solomine,  with  a  thoughtful  air  ; 
"when  do  you  intend  leaving  ?  " 

"To-morrow,  if  you  wish." 

"Very  well.     Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"Hush! — speak  lower,"  whispered  Neshdanof;  "some 
one  is  walking  in  the  corridor." 

All  three  were  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  Where  do  you  intend  taking  refuge  ?  "  continued  Solo- 
mine, lowering  his  voice. 

"  We  do  not  know,"  replied  Marianne. 

Solomine  turned  toward   Neshdanof,  who  shook  his  head. 

Solomine  extended  his  hand  and  carefully  snuffed  the 
candle,  then  continued  : 

"Listen,  my  friends;  come  to  my  house  at  the  factory. 
It  is  not  a  handsome  place,  but  you  will  be  in  safety  ;  I 
will  conceal  you.  1  have  but  one  room.  No  one  will  seek 
for  you  there.  Only  get  there,  and  we  will  not  betray  you. 
You  will  say  that  there  are  a  great  many  people  in  a  factory. 
That  is  precisely  its  advantage.  Where  there  are  so  many, 
it  is  all  the  easier  to  hide.     How  will  it  do?     Eh  ?  " 

"  How  can  we  thank  you  ?  "  replied  Neshdanof. 


196 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


And  INIarianne,  'whom  the  idea  of  the  factory  had  at  first 
frightened  a  Httle,  added  quickly  : 

"Oh,  yes,  yes;  how  good  you  are  !  But  you  will  not 
keep  us  there  a  long  while,  will  you?  You  will  send  us 
away  somewhere  ?" 

"That  is  for  you  to  say.  And  in  case  j^ou  wish  to  be 
married,  I  will  do  all  that  is  necessary  for  that.  There 
is  in  the  neighborhood,  very  near  the  factory,  a  priest  named 
Zossime,  a  line  fellow,  very  accommodating,  who  is  a  cousin 
of  mine.      He  will  marry  you  out  of  hand." 

Marianne  smiled  quietly.  Neshdanof  pressed  Solomine's 
hand  anew  ;  then,  after  a  moment  : 

"Tell  me,"  he  asked  :  "the  proprietor  of  the  factory, 
how  will  he  like  this  }     May  he  not  make  trouble }  " 

"Don't  disturb  yourself  about  that,  it's  unnecessary,"  re- 
plied Solomine  ;  "so  long  as  his  factory  goes  on  as  it 
should,  he  cares  for  nothing  else.  And  neither  you  nor 
this  charming  lady  will  have  anything  to  fear  from  him. 
Neither  need  you  fear  the  workmen.  Only  let  me  know 
beforehand.     About  what  time  shall  I  expect  you  ?  " 

Marianne  and  Neshdanof  looked  at  one  another. 

"Day after  to-morrow,  early,  or  the  next  day, "said  Nesh- 
danof at  last.  "  There  is  no  time  to  lose.  I  maybe  dis- 
missed at  any  moment." 

"It  is  understood  then,"  replied  Solomine,  rising,  "I 
will  expect  you  every  morning,  and  I  will  not  be  absent 
during  the  entire  week.     Every  precaution  shall  be  taken," 

Marianne,  who  had  taken  a  step  toward  the  door,  ad- 
vanced toward  him. 

"Adieu,  dear  Vassili  Fedoitch,  That  is  your  name,  is 
it  not  ? " 

"Yes." 

"Adieu — or  no — au  revoir  !     And  thanks,  thanks  !  " 

"  Good-by — good  night,  my  dear  child." 

"Good-by,  Neshdanof — until  to-morrow,"  she  added, 
and  quickly  left  the  room. 

The  two  young  men  remained  a  moment  motionless  and 
silent. 

"  Neshdanof!  "  said  Solomine  at  last ;  then  he  was  silent 
again. 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


197 


"Neshdanof!"  he  continued,  "tell  me  what  you 
know  about  this  young  girl.  What  has  been  her  life  up  to 
the  present  time  ?     Who  is  she  ?     How  comes  she  here  ?  " 

Neshdanof  related  briefly  all  that  he  knew. 

Solomine  listened  with  profound  attention. 

"Neshdanof,"  said  he  at  last,  "watch  over  this  young 
girl  well.  For  if  ever — if  it  should  happen — it  would  be  a 
wicked  thing  on  your  part.     Good  night." 

He  hurried  away.  Neshdanof  remained  some  time  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  and  then  murmured  : 

"  So  much  the  worse.     Let's  think  no  more  about  it." 

Marianne  on  ret\jj'ning  to  her  room  found  upon  her 
table  a  little  note,  which  read  as  follows  : 

"  You  pain  me.  You  are  destroying  yourself.  Reflect 
into  what  an  abyss  you  are  blindly  throwing  yourself!  For 
whom  and  why  t  " 

A  fresh,  penetrating  perfume  was  in  the  room  ;  evidently 
Valentine  had  just  gone  out. 

Marianne  took  up  a  pen,  and  wrote  underneath  this 
note  : 

"  Do  not  pity  me.  Heaven  knows  which  of  us  is  more 
to  be  pitied.  I  know,  for  my  part,  that  I  would  not  be  in 
your  place.  INI." 

She  left  the  note  upon  the  table,  perfectly  sure  that  her 
reply  would  fall  into  Valentine's  hands. 

The  next  morning,  Solomine,  having  had  an  interview 
with  Neshdanof,  and  finally  declined  Sipiagin's  proposition, 
returned  home. 

Ho  reflected  throughout  the  journey — a  thing  which 
scarcely  ever  happened,  the  jolting  of  the  carriage  usually 
putting  him  nearly  to  sleep. 

He  thought  of  Marianne,  and  of  Neshdanof;  he  said  to 
himself  that  if  /le  had  been  in  love,  he  would  have  acted 
and  spoken  differently.  But  he  added,  as  that  had  never 
happened  to  him,  he  could  hardly  know  in  what  way  he 
would  have  acted. 

He  remembered  an  Irish  girl  he  had  seen  one  day  in  a 
shop,  behind  the  counter  ;  she  had  magnificent  hair,  nearly 
black,  and  blue  eyes  with  long  lashes  ;  she  had  looked  at 
him  with   an  air  at  once  sad    and   questioning  ;  he    had 


198  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

walked  up  and  down  the  street  a  long  time  before  the  win- 
dows, full  of  agitation  ;  he  had  asked  himself  whether  he 
should  or  should  not  make  her  acquaintance. 

At  that  time,  he  was  on  his  way  to  London  ;  his  em- 
ployer had  sent  him  to  make  some  purchases,  and  had  in- 
trusted him  with  a  considerable  sum  of  money.  Solomine 
was  near  sending  back  the  money,  and  remaining  in  Lon- 
don, so  great  had  been  the  impression  made  upon  him  by 
the  beautiful  Polly.  (He  learned  her  name — one  of  the 
other  girls  in  the  shop  called  her  by  that  name.)  But  he 
conquered  himself,  and  returned  to  his  employer.  Polly 
was  prettier  than  Marianne,  but  the  latter  had  the  same  sad 
and  questioning  look,  and  she  was  a  Russian. 

"But  what  has  got  into  me?"  cried  he  suddenly,  almost 
aloud,  ''  bothering  my  head  about  another  man's  sweet- 
heart !  " 

And  he  shook  the  collar  of  his  coat  as  if  he  would  have 
liked  to  shake  away  at  the  same  time  all  superfluous 
thoughts.  He  arrived  just  then  at  the  factory,  and  upon 
the  threshold  of  his  door  appeared  the  outline  of  his  faithful 
Paul. 


XXVI. 

SOLOMINE'S  refusal  deeply  vexed  Sipiagin.  He  sud- 
denly perceived  that  this  Stephenson  of  the  soil  was 
not  so  very  remarkable  a  machinist,  and  that  he  made  him- 
self out  very  impostant  and  very  hard  to  please,  like  the 
plebeian  that  he  was. 

"AH  these  Russians,  when  they  imagine  they  know  any- 
thing, become  impracticable  !    Kallomeitsefis  right  after  all." 

Under  the  influence  of  these  disagreeable  and  irritating 
feelings,  the  statesman  in  embryo  grew  haughtier  and  more 
distant  than  ever  toward  Neshdanof.  He  gave  Kola  to 
understand  that  he  could  not  take  his  lesson  that  day  with 
his  teacher,  for  he  must  accustom  himself  to  do  without  his 
guide.  Still  he  did  not  immediately  turn  the  instructor  out 
of  doors,  as  the  tutor  himself  feared.  He  continued  to 
ignore  his  existence. 

On  the  other  hand  Valentine  did  not  ignore  that  of 
IMarianne.     A  terrible  scene  took  place  between  the  two. 

Shortly  after  dinner  they  found  themselves  by  chance 
alone  in  the  salon.  Each  felt  immediately  that  the  hour 
for  the  inevitable  encounter  had  come,  so  after  a  moment's 
hesitation  they  approached  one  another  slowly. 

Valentine  smiled  lightly  ;  IMarianne  compressed  her  lips. 
They  were  both  pale.  While  crossing  the  parlor  Valentine 
looked  fro«i  side  to  side,  and  plucked  a  geranium  leaf. 
Marianne's  eyes  were  fixed  steadfastly  upon  the  smil- 
ing face  which  was  approaching  her. 

Mme.  Sipiagin  was  the  first  to  stop,  and  tapping  with  her 
fingers  upon  the  back  of  a  chair  : 

"Miss  Marianne,"  said  she  carelessly,  "it  seems  to  me 
that  we  are  very  regular  correspondents  for  two  persons 
living  under  the  same  roof;  it  is  a  very  odd  procedure,  and 
you  know  I  have  litde  taste  for  oddities." 

199 


200  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"It  M-as  not  I,  madame,  who  opened  this  correspon- 
dence." 

"You  are  right.  For  this  once  I  am  to  blame  for  the 
eccentricity.  But  I  could  find  no  other  means  to  awaken 
in  you  the  feeling — what  shall  I  say  .? — the  feeling — " 

"Speak  plainly;  do  not  embarrass  yourself — don't  be 
afraid  of  paining  me." 

"The  feeling — of  propriety." 

Valentine  stopped.  Nothing  w^as  heard  in  the  parlor 
but  the  light  tapping  of  her  fingers  on  the  back  of  the 
chair. 

"And  where  have  you  found  me  lacking  in  propriety  ?  " 
retorted  INIarianne. 

Valentine  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"My  dear,  you  are  no  child,  and  you  understand  me 
perfectly.  You  imagine  perhaps  that  your  conduct  remains 
a  secret  to  me,  to  Anna,  to  the  whole  house .?  Why,  you 
have  taken  scarcely  any  pains  to  keep  it  a  secret.  You 
have  simply  flaunted  everything.  My  husband  alone,  per- 
haps, has  noticed  nothing  up  to  the  present  time.  He  has 
other  things  to  occupy  him,  more  interesting  to  him  and 
more  important.  But,  with  the  exception  of  him,  every 
one  in  the  house  knows  your  conduct,  every  one  1  " 

Marianne  grew  paler  and  paler. 

"I  beg  you,  madame,  to  explain  yourself  more  clearly. 
With  what  exactly  are  you  displeased  }  " 

"  Insolent  creature,"  thought  Valentine,  but  she  restrained 
herself. 

"You  desire  to  know  why  I  am  displeased.?  Very 
well.  I  am  displeased  with  your  prolonged  interviews 
with  a  young  man  who,  by  birth,  by  education,  and  by 
his  social  position  is  wholly  inferior  to  you.  •  I  am  dis- 
pleased— no,  the  word  is  not  strong  enough — I  am  dis- 
gusted at  your  visits  to  him  at  unseasonable  hours,  at  your 
visits  to  his  room  at  night.  And  all  this  under  my  roof! 
You  think  perhaps  that  it  is  proper  that  I  should  be  silent, 
and  stand  by  you  in  some  way  in  your  folly.  As  an  honorable 
woman — yes,  miss,  I  have  been,  I  am,  and  always  will  be 
that — as  an  honorable  woman,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  ex- 
press my  indignation." 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  20I 

Valentine  let  herself  fall  into  an  arm-chair,  as  though  the 
very  weight  of  this  indignation  crushed  her. 

Marianne  smiled  for  the  first  time. 

"  I  do  not  doubt  your  honor,  past,  present,  or  future — I 
say  this  in  all  sincerity.  But  you  excite  yourself  unneces- 
sarily. I  have  brought  no  shame  upon  your  house.  The 
young  man  to  whom  you  allude,  I — yes,  I  love  !  " 

"You  love  Mr.  Neshdanof  ?  " 

"I  love  him!" 

Valentine  straightened  herself  in  her  chair. 

"Come,  Marianne,  he  is  a  student,  without  birth  or  fam- 
ily. He  is  younger^thanyou  are."  Valentine  was  not  sorry 
to  say  these  last  words.  ' '  What  can  be  the  end  of  all  this  .? 
You,  who  are  intelligent,  what  can  you  find  in  him  .?  He 
is  an  insignificant  hobbledehoy." 

"You  were  not  always  of  that  opinion." 

"Oh,  my  dear,  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  trouble  yourself 
about  me.  Don't  show  so  much  feeling,  please.  We  are 
talking  of  your  future.  Come,  seriously,  is  he  a  suitable 
match  for  you  ?  " 

"I  confess  I  had  not  thought  of  him  as  a  match,  as  you 
say." 

"How  ?  What  ?  How  do  I  understand  you  ?  Let  us  ad- 
mit that  you  have  followed  your  heart's  impulse.  But  of 
course  that  should  have  marriage  for  its  end." 

"  I  know  nothing  at  all — I  have  not  thought  of  that." 

"  You  have  not  thought  of  it .?  Why  you  are  losing  your 
mind." 

Marianne  turned  her  eyes  away  slightly. 

"  Let  us  cut  this  interview  short,  madame.  It  can  ac- 
complish nothing.     We  cannot  understand  each  other. 

Valeniing  arose  brusquely. 

"  I  cannot,  I  ought  not  to  shorten  this  interview.  It  is 
too  serious.  I  say  to  you  before — "  (Valentine  wanted  to 
say  "before  Heaven,"  but  she  hesitated,  and  said  instead) 
"before  the  whole  world,  I  cannot  be  silent  when  I  hear 
such  nonsense.  Why  can't  I  understand  you  ?  What  is 
the  meaning  of  this  insulTcrable  pride  that  takes  possession 
of  all  young  people?  No — I  understand  you  too  well. 
I    understand    that    you    are    nursing   these    new     ideas 


202  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

that  are   carrying  you   to   ruin.     But   it  will  be  too  late, 
then  !  " 

"  Perhaps,  but  rest  assured  that  even  if  we  are  perishing, 
we  will  not  hold  up  a  finger  for  you  to  save  us.  ' 

Valentine  clasped  her  hands. 

"Still  this  pride,  this  frigritful  pride!  Come,  Marianne, 
listen  to  me,  "  she  added  suddenly,  changing  her  tone.  She 
tried  to  draw  Marianne  to  her,  but  she  drew  back.  "  Listen 
to  me,  I  conjure  you.  After  all  I  am  neither  so  old,  nor  so 
stupid  that  you  can't  understand  me.  I  am  not  full  of  prej- 
udices. When  I  was  young,  I  was  looked  upon  as  a  repub- 
lican, just  like  you.  Listen.  To  speak  frankly,  I  have  never 
felt  a  mother's  tenderness  toward  you,  and  it  was  never  in 
you  to  miss  it  ;  but  I  have  known,  1  know,  that  I  have  a 
great  responsibility  with  regard  to  you,  and  I  have  always 
endeavored  to  discharge  it.  Perhaps  the  match  I  had 
planned  for  you,  and  to  bring  about  which  neither  my  hus- 
band nor  myself  would  have  shrunk  from  any  sacrifice — per- 
haps this  match  would  not  correspond  with  your  ideas  in 
every  respect;  but  believe  me,  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart — " 

Marianne  looked  fixedly  at  Valentine,  her  fine  eyes,  her 
red  lips  imperceptibly  painted,  her  white  hands  with  their 
fingers  covered  with  rings,  and  lightly  parted,  as  the  beau- 
tiful lady  pressed  them  in  such  an  expressive  way  upon  the 
waist  of  her  silk  dress  ;  she  interrupted  her  curtly  : 

"A  match,  you  say,  a  match.  You  mean  that  vile, 
heartless  man,  Kallomei'tsef .?  " 

Valentine  withdrew  her  fingers  from  her  dress. 

"Yes,  Marianne,  I  mean  that  Mr.  Kallomei'tsef,  that 
excellent  and  cultivated  young  man,  who  will  make  his 
wife  happy,  and  who  could  only  be  refused  by  one  who  is 
mad,  actually  mad  !  " 

"Then,  aunt,  I  must  be  mad  1" 

"  But  once  more  ;  seriously,  what  fault  can  you  find  with 
him  .? " 

"Oh,  none  at  all.      I  despise  him,  that's  all." 

Valentine  shook  her  head  impatiently,  and  fell  again  into 
the  arm-chair. 

"Well,  let  us  say  no  more  about  him.  Let  us  return  to 
our  subject.     You  are  in  love  with  Neshdanof .-' " 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


203 


"Yes." 

"And  you  intend  to  continue  your  interviews  with  him  ?  " 

"Yes,  unquestionably." 

"  And  if  I  should  forbid  you  .?" 

"I  should  not  obey  you  !  " 

Valentine  leaped  from  her  chair. 

"  Ah,  you  would  not  obey  me  !  And  I  hear  this  from  a 
young  woman  whom  I  have  loaded  with  benefits,  from  a 
young  woman  whom  I  have  received  into  my  house,  from — • 
from—  " 

"From  the  daughter  of  a  dishonored  father, "  finished 
Marianne  in  a  sad  voice.     "Go  on — speak  out  plainly." 

"  It  was  not  I  who  said  that,  miss,  but  in  any  event  it  is 
not  a  thing  to  be  proud  of!  A  young  woman  who  eats  my 
bread." 

"  Do  not  reproach  me  with  that,  madame.  A  French 
governess  for  your  Kola  would  have  cost  you  more  money, 
and  I  have  given  him  French  lessons." 

Valentine  raised  her  right  hand,  which  held  a  cambric 
handkerchief,  embroidered  with  a  monogram  in  the  corner, 
and  perfumed  ;  she  was  about  to  speak,  but  Marianne  con- 
tinued impetuously  : 

"  You  would  be  right,  a  thousand  times  right,  if  instead 
of  all  the  things  you  have  enumerated,  instead  of  all  these 
pretended  kindnesses,  you  could  simply  say,  'The  young 
woman  whom  I  have  loved.'  But  you  have  still  sufficient 
honesty  not  to  lie  to  that  extent."  Marianne  trembled  as  if 
with  a  fever.  "You  have  always  detested  me.  At  this 
very  moment  in  the  depths  of  your  heart,  about  which  you 
say  so  much,  you  are  delighted,  yes,  delighted,  at  seeing 
that  I  am  realizing  your  constant  predictions,  that  I  am 
covering  myself  with  disgrace  ;  and  the  only  thing  that  dis- 
pleases you  is  that  a  part  of  the  scandal  must  fall  upon  your 
aristocratic,  your  honorable  house  !  " 

"  You  insult  me,"  stammered  Valentine.     "  Go  I  " 

But  Marianne  no  longer  restrained  herself. 

"  Your  house,  you  tell  me,  all  your  household,  and  Anna, 
and  everybody  knows  of  my  conduct,  and  everyone  is  filled 
with  alarm  and  indignation.  But  do  you  think  that  by  any 
chance  I  ask  anything  of  you  or  your  household  ?  that  I 


204  VIRGIN  SOU. 

attach  the  least  value  to  their  opinion  ?  Do  you  suppose 
your  bread  has  not  been  bitter  indeed  to  me  ?  What 
poverty  would  I  not  prefer  to  such  riches  !  Is  there  not  an 
abyss  between  your  house  and  me,  an  abyss  that  nothinc: 
can  ever  fill  ?  Is  it  possible  that  you — for  you  too  are  a 
woman  of  intelligence — have  not  been  conscious  of  all  this  ? 
And  if  you  feel  only  hate  toward  me,  is  it  possible  that  you 
do  not  understand  the  feeling  that  I  have  for  you,  and 
which  I  do  not  express — only  because  it  is  too  evident  ?  " 

"  Leave  the  room,  leave  the  room,  I  tell  you,"  repeated 
Valentine  stamping  on  the  floor  with  her  delicate  little  foot. 

Marianne  took  a  single  step  toward  the  door. 

''I  shall  relieve  you  of  my  presence.  But  let  me  tell 
you  this  :  we  know  that  Rachel,  Rachel  herself  in  Racine's 
Bajazei  could  never  say  '  Go  ! '  as  it  should  be  said.  And 
you  !  You  are  always  saying,  '  I  am  an  honorable  woman, 
I  have  been,  and  always  shall  be  ! '  Well,  I  am  very  sure 
that  I  am  much  more  honorable  than  you  are.     Adieu." 

Marianne  went  out  quickly.  Valentine,  starting  from 
her  chair,  wanted  to  cry  out,  to  weep — but  neither  words 
nor  tears  came. 

She  simply  fanned  herself  with  her  handkerchief,  but 
the  perfume  that  it  gave  forth  only  served  to  excite  her 
nerves  still  more.  She  felt  wretched,  mortified.  She  ac- 
knowledged that  there  was  some  truth  in  what  she  had 
heard.  But  how  could  she  be  judged  so  harshly,  so  un- 
justly? 

"  Have  I  really  been  so  bad  .?  "  she  thought. 

She  glanced  into  a  mirror  that  hung  between  two  win- 
dows. The  mirror  reflected  a  charming  face,  touched  and 
lined  with  red,  and  superb  eyes,  soft  as  velvet. 

"I .?  I  wicked  ?  "  thought  she,  "with  such  eyes  1  " 

But  at  that  moment  her  husband  entered,  and  she  again 
buried  her  face  in  her  handkerchief. 

"  What  ails  you  .?  "  he  asked  with  anxiety  ;  "what  is  the 
matter,  Valia  t  "  He  had  invented  this  pet  name  for  her, 
the  diminutive  of  Valentine,  and  he  only  called  her  by  it 
when  they  were  absolutely  alone  together  ;  particularly  in 
the  country. 

She  began  by  saying  that  it  was  nothing  at  all,  but  at  last 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


205 


turning  in  her  chair,  with  a  graceful  and  affecting  move- 
ment, she  threw  both  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders  (he 
was  standing,  leaning  toward  her)  ;  she  laid  her.face  on  his 
breast,  and  told  him  all,  very  sincerely,  withholding  noth- 
ing, without  the  least  change  ;  she  even  tried,  if  not  to  ex- 
onerate, at  least  in  a  measure  to  excuse  Marianne  ;  she  laid 
all  the  fault  on  her  youth,  on  her  passionate  tempera- 
ment, on  the  defects  of  her  early  education  ;  to  a  certain  de- 
gree also,  and  with  the  same  absence  of  mental  reservations, 
she  accused  herself 

"If  she  had  beep  my  own  child,  this  would  not  have 
happened.     I  ought  to  have  watched  over  her  more." 

Sipiagin  listened  to  the  end  with  a  sympathetic  and  con- 
descending air,  mixed  somewhat  with  severity. 

He  called  her  an  angel,  kissed  her  forehead,  declared 
that  he  knew  now  what  course  to  pursue  in  his  position  as 
master  of  the  house,  and  went  out  as  a  man  goes,  humane 
but  firm,  prepared  to  fulfill  a  disagreeable  but  necessary 
duty. 

Between  seven  and  eight  o'clock,  after  dinner,  Neshda- 
nof  was  in  his  room,  writing  to  his  friend  Siline. 

"  My  dear  Vladimir,  I  am  writing  to  you  at  the  time  of 
a  pronounced  change  in  my  life.  I  have  been  dismissed 
from  this  house.  I  go.  But  that  is  nothing.  I  do  not  go 
alone.  The  young  girl  of  whom  I  have  spoken  to  you 
goes  with  me.  Everything  unites  us :  the  similarity  of 
our  fates,  ihe  agreement  of  our  opinions,  of  our  aspirations, 
and  our  common  love.  We  are  in  love.  At  least,  I  am 
persuaded  that  I  cannot  feel  the  sentiment  of  love  in  any 
different  form  from  that  in  which  it  offers  itself  to  me  now. 

"  But  I  should  be  telling  a  falsehood  if  I  should  tell  you 
that  I  did  not  experience  a  secret  fear,  almost  anguish,  in 
my  heart.  Before  us  all  is  dark,  and  it  is  into  this  dark- 
ness that  we  two  are  about  to  step.  I  need  not  explain  to 
you  where  we  are  going,  or  what  part  we  have  chosen.  Ma- 
rianne and  I  do  not  seek  happiness,  a  gentle,  easy  life  ;  we 
wish  to  struggle  together,  side  by  side,  each  sustaining  the 
other.  Our  aim  is  well  defined  ;  but  the  road  that  must  lead 
us  to  it,  of  that  we  are  ignorant. 

"Shall  we  not  find,  if  not  sympathy  and  aid,  at  least  the 


2o6  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

possibility  of  action  ?  INIariannc  is  an  excellent,  an  honor- 
able young  girl.  If  it  is  our  destiny  to  perish,  I  shall  not 
reproach  myself  with  having  dragged  her  to  it,  for  there  is 
really  no  otfier  existence  open  to  her.  And  yet,  Vladimir, 
there  is  a  weight  at  my  heart— a  doubt  torments  me.  Not 
as  to  my  feelings  toward  her — oh,  no  !  but — I  know  not — 
still  it  is  too  late  now  to  recede. 

"  Hold  out  your  hand  to  us  two,  from  the  distance,  and 
wish  us  patience,  self-denial,  and  strength  in  love — above 
all  the  latter.  And  you,  ye  Russian  people,  whom  we  know 
not,  but  whom  we  cherish  with  our  whole  being,  with  our 
heart's  blood,  receive  us,  not  with  indifference,  but  show 
us  what  we  must  attempt  for  you.  Good-by,  Vladimir, 
good-by  !  " 

After  having  written  these  lines,  Neshdanof  went  toward 
the  village. 

The  following  night,  just  as  the  dawn  began  to  break,  he 
waited  at  the  edge  of  the  clump  of  birch  trees,  not  far 
from  Sipiagin's  house.  A  little  behind,  through  the  tangled 
branches  of  a  large  thicket  of  hazel  trees,  could  be  seen  a 
country  wagon,  drawn  by  two  unbridled  horses  ;  under  the 
seat,  which  was  formed  of  ropes  twisted  in  a  network,  slept 
a  little,  old,  gray-haired  moujik,  upon  a  handful  of  hay,  his 
head  buried  in  a  worn-out  patched-up  coat. 

Neshdanof  looked  constantly  down  the  road  toward  the 
huge  willows  that  bordered  the  garden.  The  bright  and 
calm  night  still  surrounded  them.  Some  few  stars,  lost  in 
the  broad  expanse  of  heaven,  twinkled  feebly  by  turns. 
Along  the  edges  of  the  fleecy  clouds  which  stretched  across 
the  sky  there  came  gliding  from  the  East  a  pale  blush,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  slight  chill  of  the  early  dawn. 

Suddenly  Neshdanof  trembled,  and  straightened  himself 
up.  Somewhere  near  him  a  garden  gate  opened,  then 
closed  again.  A  delicate  female  form,  the  head  covered 
with  a  large  handkerchief,  a  little  bundle  on  her  arm,  came 
cautiously  from  the  motionless  shadow  of  the  willows,  out 
into  the  soft  dust  of  the  roadway,  and  crossing  it  on  tip-toe, 
moved  toward  the  little  thicket. 

Neshdanof  started  forward  to  meet  her. 

"  Marianne  !  "  he  murmured. 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


207 


"It  is  I  !  "  answered  a  low  voice  from  beneath  the  hand- 
kerchief that  covered  her  face. 

"This  way,  follow  me,"  said  Neshdanof,  awkwardly  tak- 
ing her  by  the  arm  that  carried  the  bundle. 

She  shuddered,  and  pressed  her  elbows  tighter. 

He  led  her  to  the  carriage,  and  awoke  the  peasant,  who 
jumped  up  quickly,  got  on  the  box,  drew  on  his  coat,  and 
grasped  the  reins.  The  horses  were  impatient  to  start  ;  he 
calmed  them,  hoarse  with  sleep. 

Neshdanof  made  Marianne  sit  upon  the  rope  which  served 
for  a  seat,  first  spreading  his  coat  over  it ;  he  covered  her 
feet  with  a  blanket-*-the  hay  was  a  little  damp — and  seating 
himself  near  her,  he  turned  to  the  driver,  and  said  in  a  low 
voice  : ' 

"  You  have  your  orders,  drive  on." 

The  horses,  snorting,  impatient,  dashed  out  from  the 
thicket,  and  the  carriage,  shaking  and  jolting  on  its  aged 
wheels,  rolled  along  the  road. 

Neshdanof  supported  his  companion's  form  ;  Marianne, 
pulling  aside  with  her  cold  fingers  the  handkerchief  that 
hid  her  face,  turned  toward  him  smiling,  and  said  : 

"Ah,  how  delightful,  how  cool  it  is,  Alexis  !  " 

"Yes,"  replied  the  peasant,  "there  has  been  a  heavy 
dew." 

It  was  indeed  so  heavy  that  the  wheel-hubs  striking 
Against  the  tops  of  the  bushes  along  the  way  caused  little 
showers  to  flash  out  ;  the  grass  was  all  gray,  a  steel-gray. 

INIarianne  again  shivered. 

"How  fresh,  how  cool  it  is!"  she  repeated  joyously. 
"And  liberty,  Alexis,  liberty  1" 


XXVII. 

SOLOMINE,  on  hearing  that  a  gentleman  and  lady  had 
arrived  in  a  carriage  and  asked  to  see  him,  immedi- 
ately rushed  down  to  the  entrance  of  the  factory. 

He  did  not  wait  to  ask  the  new-comers  after  their  health, 
and,  confining  himself  to  a  nod  or  two  of  greeting,  he  bade 
the  driver  enter  the  court  and  drive  to  the  right  to  his  own 
house,  and  then  helped  Marianne  to  alight.  Neshdanof 
leaped  out  after  her. 

Solomine  made  them  traverse  a  long,  dark  corridor,  mount 
a  narrow  stairway,  and  led  them  to  a  retired  part  of  the 
house  on  the  second  floor.  There  he  opened  a  low  door, 
and  the  three  entered  a  little  room,  with  two  windows, 
which  was  neatly  furnished. 

"Welcome  !  "  said  Solomine  with  his  ever-present  smile, 
which  this  time  seemed  warmer  and  more  cordial  than 
usual.  "  This  is  your  abode.  This  room,  and  another 
next  to  it.  It  is  not  magnificent,  but  one  can  at  least  find 
content  here,  and  no  one  will  intrude  upon  you.  Beneath  * 
your  windows  is  what  my  employer  calls  a  flower  garden  ; 
I  call  it  a  kitchen  garden.  It  is  inclosed  on  all  sides  by 
walls.  You  will  be  perfectly  secluded.  So,  once  more, 
welcome,  my  charming  young  lady ;  and  you,  too,  Nesh- 
danof, welcome  !  " 

He  pressed  the  hands  of  both. 

The  young  people  stood  motionless,  without  taking  off 
their  traveling  clothes,  and  looked  straigTit  before  them 
in  a  troubled  silence,  half-surprised,  half-delighted. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "  said  Solomine.  "  Out  with  it.  What 
things  have  you  brought  with  you  ?  " 

Marianne  showed  the  little  bundle  that  she  still  carried 
in  her  hand. 

"  I  have  only  this." 

208 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


209 


"  And  I,"  said  Neshdanof,  "  I  have  a  traveling-bag  and 
a  valise,  which  are  still  in  the  carriage.     I  will  go — " 

"  Stay  here  !  " 

Solomine  opened  the  door. 

"  Paul  !  "  he  called  quickly,  leaning  over  the  dark  stair- 
way. "  There  are  some  things  in  the  carriage  ;  bring 
them  up." 

"  Immediately  !  "  replied  the  voice  of  the  ever-present 
Paul. 

Solomine  returned  to  Marianne,  who  had  taken  off  her 
shawl  and  was  unfastening  her  mantilla. 

"  Everything  has  gone  right  ?  "  said  he  to  her. 

"  Yes.  No  one  saw  us.  I  left  a  letter  for  Mr.  Sipiagin. 
I  brought  no  clothes  with  me,  because,  as  I  am  to  be  a — " 
(she  dared  not  say,  though  they  knew  not  why,  "  among  the 
people,")  that  was  not  worth  the  trouble.  I  should  have  no 
use  for  them.    And  I  have  money  to  buy  what  I  may  need." 

"  We  will  see  to  that  hereafter.  But  now,"  continued 
Solomine,  pointing  out  Paul  to  them,  who  entered  just  then 
with  Neshdanof 's  things,  "  I  intrust  you  to  the  best  friend 
I  have  in  the  house  ;  you  may  rely  upon  him  as  implicitly 
as  upon  myself.  Have  you  spoken  to  Tatiana  about  the 
samovar  ?  "  he  added  in  a  low  tone. 

"  They  are  bringing  it,"  replied  Paul,  "  and  the  cream, 
and  everything." 

"  Tatiana  is  his  wife,"  continued  Solomine.  "  She  is 
as  trustworthy  as  he.  Until  you  get  used  to  this  life,  she 
will  wait  on  you." 

Marianne  threw  her  cloak  upon  a  leather  divan  in  a 
corner. 

"  Call  me  Marianne.  I  do  not  care  to  be  called  '  Miss.' 
As  for  a  servant,  I  do  not  need  one.  I  have  not  come  here 
to  be  waited  on.  Do  not  look  at  my  gown  ;  I  have  no 
other  here.     But  it  shall  be  changed." 

Her  dress  of  ladies'  cloth  was  very  simple,  but  it  had 
been  cut  by  a  dressmaker  in  St.  Petersburg.  It  fitted  her 
figure  and  shoulders  elegantly.  It  was,  in  fact,  in  the 
height  of  fashion. 

"  Pshaw  !  she  won't  be  your  servant.  She  will  be  your 
'  help  ' — in  the  American  fashion.     But  that  need  not  pre- 

14 


2IO  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

vent  your  taking  a  cup  of  tea.  It  is  very  early,  but  you 
both  must  be  tired  out.  I  will  go  to  my  work,  now  ;  I  will 
see  you  again  later.  If  you  have  need  of  anything  at  all, 
ask  Paul  and  Tatiana  for  it." 

Marianne  held  out  both  her  hands  to  him  with  a  quick 
gesture. 

"  How  can  I  thank  you  ?  "  she  said,  gazing  at  him  ten- 
derly. 

Solomine  patted  her  hand  gently. 

"  I  might  tell  >ou  that  I  don't  deserve  your  thanks — and 
I  should  tell  the  truth.  But  I  much  prefer  to  tell  you  how 
much  pleasure  your  thanks  give  me.  But  I  must  really 
leave  you  ;  I  shall  see  you  again  soon.     Come,  Paul  !  " 

Marianne  and  Neshdanof  were  alone. 

She  moved  toward  him,  and  looked  at  him  as  she  had 
looked  at  Solomine,  only  with  a  far  happier,  tenderer,  and 
brighter  look. 

"  Oh,  my  friend,"  she  said,  "  we  are  beginning  a  new  life. 
At  last  !  At  last  !  You  cannot  think  how  lovely,  how 
charming  this  humbl-e  room  seems  to  me,  compared  with 
that  detestable  palace.     Speak  !  are  you  happy  ?  " 

"  I  am  happy,  Marianne,  because  I  am  beginning  this 
new  life  with  you.  You  will  be  my  guiding  star,  my  help, 
my  strength  !  " 

"  Dear  Alexis  !  But  I  must  put  myself  to  rights  a  Httle. 
I  will  run  into  my  room.  Wait  here  for  me.  I  will  be 
back  in  a  moment." 

Marianne  went  into  the  adjoining  room,  closed  the  door 
behind  her,  then,  a  moment  after,  half  opened  it,  and  put 
her  head  through  the  opening. 

"  How  kind  this  Solomine  is  !  "  she  said. 

Then  she  disappeared  again,  and  the  key  was  heard  turn- 
ing in  the  lock. 

Neshdanof  went  to  the  window,  looked  into  the  garden, 
and,  without  knowing  why,  his  eyes  fastened  themselves 
upon  an  old,  stunted  apple-tree. 

He  shook  himself,  stretched  a  little,  opened  his  traveling- 
bag,  and  without  taking  anything  out  began  to  dream. 

At  the  end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Marianne  reap- 
peared, gay,  bright,  full  of  spirits,  the  color  on  her  cheeks 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  _  211 

revived  by  fresh  water,  and  some  moments  after,  Tatiana, 
Paul's  wife,  brought  in  the  samovar,  the  tea  things,  rolls, 
and  cream. 

Tatiana  was  a  perfect  contrast  to  the  figure  of  her 
Bohemian  of  a  husband.  She  was  a  veritable  Russian 
housewife,  solidly  built,  fair,  fresh,  bare-headed,  with  a  great 
tress  tightly  fastened  about  a  horn  comb  ;  her  features  were  a 
little  coarse,  but  pleasant  ;  her  eyes  gray,  kindly,  and  frank. 
She  was  clad  in  a  calico  dress,  faded  but  in  good  condition  ; 
her  hands,  though  rather  large,  were  neat  and  hand- 
some. 

She  bowed  quietly,  said  in  a  strong,  clear  voice,  without 
a  drawl : 

"  I  wish  you  all  happiness,"  and  then  began  to  set  out 
the  samovar,  the  cups,  and  the  rest. 

Marianne  went  up  to  her. 

"  Let  me  help  you,  Tatiana,"  said  she  ;  "  hand  me  a  nap- 
kin." 

"  It's  nothing  at  all,  miss.  We  are  used  to  this  work. 
Vassili  Fedoitch  told  me  if  you  wanted  anything  done, 
just  give  the  order  and  we  will  do  it." 

"  Tatiana,  don't  call  me  miss,  please.  I  am  dressed  like 
the  aristocracy,  but  I — I  am  entirely — " 

Marianne,  disturbed  by  Tatiana's  persistent  gaze,  inter- 
rupted her. 

"  What  are  you  then  ?  "  asked  Tatiana  in  her  calm  tone. 

"  Of  course  I  am  in  reality  noble,  but  I  wish  to  put  aside 
all  that  and  to  become  a  woman  of  the  people." 

"  Ah  !  yes  ;  now  I  understand.  Then  you  are  one  of 
those  who  wish  to  be  simplified.  There  are  a  great  many 
of  them  now." 

"  What  did  you  say,  Tatiana  ?     To  be  simplified  ?  " 

"Yes  ;  it  is  only  a  way  of  expressing  what  you  now  wish 
to  do.  To  live  entirely  as  the  working  classes  live,  to  be 
simplified  !  It  is  indeed  a  good  work — teaching  the  people 
to  reason.  But  it  is  not  easy  ;  no,  indeed.  May  God  give 
you  good  speed  !  " 

"  To  be  simplified  !  "  repeated  Marianne.  "  Only  hear, 
Alexis  ;   at  this  very  moment  we  are  being  simplified  !  " 

Neshdanof  began  to  laugh,  also  repeating  "  simplified." 


2  12  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  And  who  is  this  ?  Your  husband  or  your  brother  ?  " 
asked  Tatiana,  carefully  rinsing  the  cups  with  her  large, 
skillful  hands,  looking  with  a  half  caressing  half  jesting 
smile  now  at  Neshdanof,  now  at  Marianne. 

"  No,"  replied  Marianne.  "  He  is  neither  my  husband 
nor  my  brother." 

Tatiana  raised  her  head. 

"  Ah  !  you  are  living  in  free  love  ;  that,  too,  is  very 
common  now.  In  other  days  it  was  more  often  known 
among  the  Old  Believers,  the  Raskolniks  ;  but  in  these  days 
there  are  a  great  many  who  do  the  same  thing.  If  God 
only  gives  you  his  blessing,  and  you  live  in  content  and  mu- 
tual confidence,  no  need  of  priests  in  that  case.  One  finds 
many  such  instances  in  our  factory,  and  they  are  none  the 
worse." 

"  What  pretty  expressions  you  use,  Tatiana ;  '  free 
love  ' — that  pleases  me  much.  By  the  way,  Tatiana,  I 
have  something  to  ask  you.  I  want  to  make  or  to  buy  a 
dress  like  yours,  or  even  plainer  ;  shoes,  stockings,  and  a 
fichu  exactly  like  yours.     I  have  all  the  money  I  need." 

"  Good,  that  can  easily  be  done,  miss  ;  don't  be  vexed. 
I  will  not  say  it  again,  I  will  not  call  you  miss  again,  but 
what  shall  I  call  you  ?  " 

"  Marianne." 

"  And  your  father's  first  name  ?  " 

"  What  can  be  the  necessity  for  my  father's  first  name  ? 
Call  me  simply  Marianne.     I  call  you  Tatiana." 

"  It  is  not  at  all  the  same  thing.     Tell  me  his  name." 

"  If  you  insist,  my  father's  name  was  Vikenti  (Vincent), 
and  yours  ? " 

"  Mine  ?     Ossip." 

"  Very  well,  I  shall  call  you  Tatiana  Ossipovna." 

"  And  I  shall  call  you  Marianne  Vikentievna  ;  that  will 
do  very  well." 

"  You  will  take  your  tea  with  us,  Tatiana  Ossipovna  ?  " 

"  For  the  first  day  I  will  not  refuse,  Marianne  Viken- 
tievna ;  only  a  small  cup." 

"  Will  you  be  seated,  Tatiana  Ossipovna  ?  " 

"  I  wish  you  well,  Marianne  Vikentievna." 

Tatiana  sat  down,  and  took  her  tea  in  the  fashion  of 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  213 

Russian  people  ;  turning  constantly  between  her  fingers  a 
small  piece  of  sugar,  biting  it  in  little  bits  while  winking 
the  eye  on  the  side  she  was  nibbling.  Marianne  entered 
into  conversation  with  her.  Tatiana  answered  without  the 
least  embarrassment,  asking  questions  in  her  turn  arfd  talk- 
ing freely.  She  spoke  of  Solomine  almost  as  if  he  were  a 
god,  placing  her  husband  next  to  Solomine.  But  factory 
life  wore  on  him. 

"  This  is  not  a  city,"  said  she,  "  nor  is  it  a  village.  But 
for  Monsieur  Solomine  I  would  not  stay  here  one  hour." 

Marianne  listened  attentively  to  all  she  had  to  say. 
Neshdanof,  seated  a  little  apart  watching  his  companion, 
was  not  surprised  "at  her  interest.  To  Marianne  it  was  all 
new  ;  as  for  himself,  he  seemed  to  have  seen  hundreds  like 
Tatiana,  and  to  have  talked  with  them  a  hundred  times. 

"  Listen,  Tatiana  Ossipovna,"  said  Marianne  ;  "at  this  mo- 
ment you  think  we  wish  to  instruct  the  people  ;  not  at  all, 
we  wish  to  serve  them." 

"  How  is  that,  to  serve  them  ?  Teaching  them  ought  to 
be  your  only  service.  Look  at  me,  for  instance  :  when  I  was 
married,  I  could  neither  read  nor  write  ;  now,  I  can  do 
both,  thanks  to  VassiH  Fedotitch  !  It  was  not  he  who 
taught  me,  but  he  paid  a  good  old  man  who  taught  me 
everything,  and  I  am  young  still,  though  I  am  so  big." 

Marianne  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  I  should  like,"  she  said,  "  to  learn  some  trade,  but  we 
will  talk  more  about  this  at  another  time.  I  am  a  very 
poor  seamstress.  If  I  could  only  learn  something  of  cook- 
ing I  could  become  a  cook." 

Tatiana  was  amazed. 

"  A  cook  !  what  for  ?  Cooks  live  Avith  the  rich,  with 
merchants,  and  the  poor  cook  for  themselves.  In  a  co-op- 
erative association,  perhaps,  among  the  workmen — but  ah  ! 
there  cannot  be  a  more  pitiful  trade." 

"  And  even  though  I  might  be  in  the  house  of  a  rich 
man,  I  might  come  in  contact  with  the  poor.  If  not,  where 
could  I  go  to  find  them  ?  I  should  not  always  meet  with 
such  an  opportunity  as  that  of  to-day,  with  you." 

Tatiana  replaced  the  cup  in  the  saucer,  turning  it  upside 
down. 


2  14  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  That  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  decide,"  she  said  at  last 
smiling  ;  "  one  cannot  twist  it  around  one's  finger  like  a  bit 
of  thread  ;  all  I  know  myself  I  will  show  you,  but  I  am 
not  vej-y  skillful ;  talk  to  my  husband  about  it.  With  him, 
it  is  quite  another  matter  ;  he  reads  all  sorts  of  books,  and 
he  will  explain  everything  to  you  as  clearly  as  possible." 

While  looking  at  Marianne  she  saw  she  was  rolling  a  ci- 
garette. 

"  Pardon  me,  Marianne  Vikentievna,"  she  said  ;  "  but  if 
you  really  wish  to  be  simplified,  you  must  have  done  with 
all  that,"  pointing  to  the  cigarette  ;  "  because,  in  these  oc- 
cupations, especially  in  that  of  a  cook,  it  is  never  allowed, 
and  everybody  will  know  immediately  that  you  are  a 
'  demoiselle.' "  Marianne  threw  her  cigarette  out  of  the 
window. 

"  I  will  not  smoke  any  more,  it  is  a  habit  one  can  readily 
throw  aside.  If  women  among  the  people  never  smoke,  then 
it  is  better  for  me  not  to  do  so." 

"  You  are  quite  right ;  men  indulge  in  such  foolish 
habits  ;  but  women  in  our  class — never  !  See  !  there  is 
Mr.  Solomine,  I  hear  his  step  ;  ask  him,  he  will  make  every- 
thing clear." 

Mr.  Solomine's  voice  was  heard  at  the  door. 

*'  Can  I  come  in  ? " 

"  Come  in  !  come  in  !  "   called  out  Marianne. 

"  This  is  an  English  habit  that  I  have  acquired,"  said 
Solomine  as  he  came  in,  "  Well,  how  is  everything  going  on  ? 
haven't  you  had  time  to  feel  bored  and  wearied  yet  ?  You 
are  taking  your  tea  with  Tatiana  ?  Now  that  is  thoroughly 
sensible.  My  master's  arrival  to-day  is  very  inconvenient, 
and  he  will  stay  to  dine  with  us  ;  but  what  can  I  do  ?  he  is 
my  master." 

"  Who  is  he  ? "  asked  Neshdanof,  coming  out  of  his 
corner. 

"  A  man,  exactly  like  anybody  else.  He  is  not  as  innocent 
as  a  babe  unborn,  as  they  say  ;  but  not  bad,  on  the  whole. 
With  me  he  is  as  smooth  as  possible.  He  can't  get  along 
without  me.  But  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  we  shall  not 
probably  see  each  other  again  to-day.  Your  dinner  will  be 
brought  to  you  ;  do  not  show  yourselves,  especially  in  the 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  215 

yard.     Do  you  think,  Marianne,  that  the  Sipiagins  will  make 
any  search  for  you — that  they  will  pursue  you  ? " 

"  I  think  not,"  said  Marianne. 

"And  I  am  fully  persuaded  that  they  will,"  said  Nesh- 

danof. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Solomine  ;  "  in  any  case,  however,  it 
is  well  to  be  prudent  at  first.  Afterward  everything  will 
take  care  of  itself." 

"  Yes,  but  listen,"  answered  Neshdanof ;  "  Markelof 
ought  to  know  where  to  find  me,  we  must  notify  him." 

"  Why  so  ? " 

"  It  is  absolutely  necessary — he  ought  always  to  know 
where  I  am.  I  have  promised  him.  He  will  not  tell  any- 
thing." 

"Very  well,  we  will  send  him  word  by  Paul." 

"  And  my  clothes  will  be  ready  ? "  asked  Neshdanof. 

"  The  costume  ?  why  then  this  is  to  be  a  veritable  mas- 
querade— not  expensive,  thank  God  !  Come,  Tatiana,  let 
us  go." 

Marianne  and  Neshdanof  were  once  more  left  alone. 


XXVIII. 

THEY  began  as  at  first  by  clasping  tightly  each  other's 
hands — then  Marianne  cried  : 

"Wait,  I  am  going  to  help  you  to  arrange  your  room," 
and  she  immediately  began  unpacking  the  traveling-bag 
and  valise. 

Neshdanof  wanted  to  help  her,  but  she  declared  she 
w^ould  do  all  that  by  herself,  "  because  it  was  very  neces- 
sary for  her  to  accustom  herself  to  be  of  service  ;  "  and,  in 
fact,  she  herself  hung  up  everything  on  some  nails  which  she 
had  found  in  the  table  drawer  and  which  she  hammered 
into  the  wall,  using  the  back  of  a  brush  as  a  hammer  ;  she 
also  put  away  the  linen  in  a  little  old  commode  standing 
between  the  two  windows. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  she  said  suddenly.  ".A  revolver?  Is 
it  loaded  ?     Why  do  you  have  a  revolver  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  loaded — but  give  it  to  me  all  the  same.  You 
ask  me  why  ?    In  our  trade  nobody  stirs  out  without  one  !  " 

She  laughed  and  returned  to  her  work,  shaking  each 
article  of  clothing,  and  beating  it  with  the  palm  of  her 
hand.  She  even  placed  under  the  sofa  two  pairs  of  boots  ; 
some  books,  a  package  of  papers,  and  the  famous  book  of 
manuscript  poems  were  solemnly  ranged  on  a  corner  table 
with  three  legs,  which  she  called  the  writing  and  working 
table,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  other,  which,  being  round, 
she  said  was  an  eating  and  tea  table. 

This  done  she  took  with  both  hands  the  book  contain- 
ing the  verses,  raised  it  to  a  level  with  her  eyes,  and  look- 
ing at  Neshdanof  over  the  edge,  she  said  smiling  : 

"  We  will  read  all  this  together,  whenever  our  different 
occupations  give  us  any  leisure,  won't  we  ? " 

"  Give  me  the  book,  I  am  going  to  throw  it  into  the 
fire  !  "  cried  Neshdanof  ;  "  it  is  fit  for  nothing  else  !  " 

216 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  21 J 

"  Why  then  did  you  bring  it  away  with  you  ?  No^  no, 
I  will  not  let  you  bum  it  ;  however,  they  say  that  poets  are 
always  threatening  to  burn  their  works,  but  they  never  do 
it.  In  any  case  I  shall  take  care  of  it  myself,  it  will  be 
much  safer." 

Neshdanof  wished  to  protest  against  this,  but  Marianne 
ran  into  her  chamber  with  the  book  and  returned  with 
empty  hands.  She  seated  herself  near  Neshdanof,  but  in 
a  moment  arosp  saying  : 

"  You  have  not  yet  seen  my  chamber  ;  do  you  not  want 
to  see  it  ?  It  is  no  worse  than  yours.  Come,  I  will  show 
it  to  you."  • 

Neshdanof  rose  also  and  followed  Marianne.  Her 
chamber  was  a  trifle  smaller  than  his,  but  the  furniture  was 
better  and  more  modern  ;  in  the  window  there  was  a  glass 
vase  of  flowers,  and  in  the  corner  an  iron  bedstead. 

"  See  how  good  Solomine  is  !  "  she  cried  ;  "  but  we  must 
not  be  spoiled  by  it ;  we  shall  not  often  have  such  a  lodg- 
ing. Do  you  know  what  would  be  wise  ?  To  arrange  not  to 
-separate  at  all,  but  to  find  a  place  for  us  both.  That 
might  be  difficult,"  she  added,  after  an  instant  ;  "  however, 
we  will  see.  You  have  at  least  no  idea  of  returning  to 
St.  Petersburg  ?  " 

"  What  should  I  do  in  St.  Petersburg  ?  Attend  the  course 
at  the  University,  and  give  lessons — to  what  end  ?  " 

"  Let  us  see  what  Solomine  will  say  ;  he  knows  better 
than  we  the  wisest  thing  for  us  to  do,  and  the  wisest  way.of 
doing  it." 

They  returned  to  the  first  room  and  again  sat  down  near 
each  other.  They  praised  Solomine,  Tatiana,  and  Paul ; 
they  talked  of  Sipiagin,  of  their  past  life,  which  all  at  once 
seemed  to  disappear  in  the  distance,  as  if  enveloped  in  a 
fog  ;  they  pressed  each  other's  hands  and  exchanged  radi- 
ant smiles  ;  then  they  spoke  of  the  new  class  into  which  they 
were  determined  to  penetrate,  and  of  how  to  do  it  without 
exciting  mistrust. 

Neshdanof  was  convinced  that  the  less  they  thought  of 
all  that  the  better  they  would  succeed. 

"  No  doubt  !  "  exclaimed  Marianne  ;  "  since  we  wish  to 
be  ^simplified,'  as  Tatiana  says." 


21 8  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  Not  just  that,"  began  Neshdanof  ;  "  I  meant  to  say 
that  we  must  not  make  too  much  effort." 

Marianne  interrupted  him  with  a  burst  of  laughter. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  what  I  have  sometimes  said,  Alexis, 
that  we  are  both  '  simplified.'  " 

Neshdanof  laughed  too,  repeating  "  simplified,"  and  then 
became  thoughtful,  while  Marianne  in  her  turn  also  became 
thoughtful. 

"  Alexis  !  "  said  she. 

"  What  ? " 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  we  are  a  little  embarrassed.  JVoii- 
veaiix  maric's  "  (she  said  these  two  words  in  French)  "  must 
experience  something  like  this  the  first  day  of  their  wedding 
Journey.  They  are  happy,  very  happy,  but  at  the  same 
time  they  are  a  little  embarrassed." 

Neshdanof  smiled  in  a  constrained  manner. 

"  ^  JVouveaux  inaries.'  You  know  very  well,  Marianne, 
that  is  not  our  case." 

Marianne  arose,  and  standing  before  Neshdanof, — "  That 
depends  upon  you,"  said  she. 

"  How  ?  " 

"  Alexis,  listen  !  When  you  tell  me,  on  the  word  of  a 
man  of  honor — and  I  shall  believe  you,  for  I  know  you  are 
a  man  of  honor — when  you  tell  me  that  you  love  me  with 
that  love — that  love  which  binds  together  for  life — I  am 
yours." 

Neshdanof  colored,  and  slightly  turning  away,  said  : 

''  When  I  say  that  to  you — " 

"  Yes,  when  you  say  that  to  me.  But  you  do  not  say  it 
to  me  now.  Oh,  yes,  Alexis,  you  are  really  a  man  of 
honor  !     Now,  let  us  talk  of  more  serious  matters." 

"  But,  Marianne,  do  I  not  love  you  ?" 

"  I  know  it,  and  I  will  wait ;  but  your  writing-table  is 
not  yet  in  order.  Stop  !  there  is  something  wrapped  up  in 
here,  something  hard." 

Neshdanof  sprang  from  his  chair. 

"  Let  it  be,  Marianne  !     I  beg  of  you  do  not  touch  it !  " 

Marianne  glanced  at  him  over  her  shoulder ;  raising  her 
eyebrows  with  astonishment. 

"  Is  it  a  secret — you  have  a  secret  ?  " 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


219 


"Yes,  yes,"  stammered  Neshdanof,  and  excessively  dis- 
turbed, he  added,  as  an  explanation,  "  It  is  a  portrait." 

The  word  escaped  in  spite  of  himself. 

The  paper  that  Marianne  held  in  her  hands  contained 
the  portrait  given  to  the  young  man  by  Markelof. 

"  A  portrait,"  said  she  slowly,  "of  a  woman  ?  " 

She  held  out  to  him  the  little  package  ;  but  he  took  it  so 
awkwardly  that  it  almost  fell  to  the  floor  and  the  wrapper 
opened. 

"  But  it  is^t  is  my  own  portrait — then,  being  mine,  I 
have  the  right  to  take  it  !  " 

She  took  it  from  his  hands,  saying  : 

"  Was  it  you  who  drew  it  ?  " 

"  No,  it  was  not  I." 

"  Who  then  ?     Markelof  ?  " 

"  You  have  guessed  right.     It  was  he." 

"  How  happened  you  to  have  it  ? " 

"  He  made  me  a  present  of  it." 

"When?" 

Neshdanof  told  her  under  what  circumstances  it  had 
been  given  him. 

While  he  was  talking,  Marianne  glanced  attentively  at 
him  and  at  the  portrait,  and  the  young  people  both  had  a 
vague  feeling  that  if  he  had  been  in  this  room  he  would 
have  had  the  right.  But  neither  Marianne  nor  Neshdanof 
uttered  this  thought  aloud,  perhaps  because  each  read  it  in 
the  other's  mind.  Marianne  gently  wrapped  up  the  por- 
trait and  replaced  it  on  the  table. 

"  He  was  a  good  fellow,"  she  said  softly.  "  Where  is 
he  now  ?  " 

"  Where  is  he  ?  at  home,  of  course — at  his  own  house. 
I  shall  go  to  see  him  to-morrow,  or  the  day  after,  for  some 
books  and  pamphlets  he  meant  to  give  me,  but  which  he 
forgot  when  I  came  away." 

"  Do  you  really  believe,  Alexis,  that  in  giving  you  this 
portrait,  he  meant  to  renounce  everything,  absolutely  every- 
thing ? " 

"  It  seemed  so  to  me." 

"  And  yet  you  expect  to  find  him  at  home  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 


2  20  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  Ah  !  "  and  Marianne  dropped  her  eyes  and  let  her  arms 
fall  at  her  side. 

"  There  is  Tatiana  bringing  us  our  dinner,"  she  ex- 
claimed.    "  What  an  excellent  woman  she  is." 

Tatiana  appeared,  carrying  the  cloth,  napkins,  plates,  and 
dishes.  While  setting  the  table,  she  told  what  had  been 
going  on  at  the  factory. 

"  The  master  has  arrived  from  Moscow,  by  rail,  and  has 
rushed  through  the  different  floors  like  a  lunatic  ;  he  un- 
derstands nothing  about  it  all ;  but  it  is  all  for  effect,  for 
the  look  of  the  thing.  He  wished  to  find  fault,  but  Solo- 
mine  put  a  stop  to  that  immediately.  *  I  will  leave  at 
once,'  he  told  the  master,  who  soon  lowered  his  crest. 
Now  they  are  dining  together.  The  master  has  brought 
a  companion  with  him,  and  he  admires  everything.  He 
must  be  a  man  of  money,  he  is  silent  nearly  all  the 
time,  only  shaking  his  head.  A  stout  man,  a  very  stout 
man,  a  regular  big  nob  from  Moscow.  That  is  a  first- 
rate  proverb,  '  Moscow  is  the  hub  of  this  universe,  every- 
thing turns  on  it.'  " 

"  How  you  notice  everything  !  "  exclaimed  Marianne. 

"  Well,  yes,  I  generally  keep  my  eyes  open,"  answered 
Tatiana.  "  There,  your  dinner  is  ready.  Eat  it  with  a 
good  appetite.  I  am  going  to  sit  down  and  look  at 
you." 

The  young  people  seated  themselves  at  the  table  ; 
Tatiana  sat  down  in  the  embrasure  of  the  window,  resting 
her  cheek  on  the  palm  of  her  hand. 

"  I  am  looking  at  you,"  she  said.  "  How  young  and  help- 
less you  are — you  two  !  It  is  pleasant  to  see  you,  so  pleas- 
ant that  it  almost  makes  my  heart  ache  !  Ah,  my  pretty 
pigeons  !  You  have  taken  upon  yourselves  a  burden  much 
too  heavy  for  your  shoulders  !  It  is  young  creatures  like 
you  whom  the  people  of  the  czar  like  to  stick  into  prison." 

"  Bah  !  my  good  woman,  don't  trouble  yourself  about 
us,"  answered  Neshdanof.  "  You  know  the  proverb,  'Who 
calls  himself  a  mushroom  must  go  to  the  basket.'  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  ;  but  the  baskets  nowadays  are  very  nar- 
row, and  one  does  not  come  out  of  them  just  in  the  way 
one  would  like  best." 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  221 

"  Have  you  any  children  ?  "  asked  Marianne,  in  order 
to  change  the  subject. 

"  I  have  one  boy,  who  already  goes  to  school.  I  had  a 
daughter,  but  I  have  lost  her — poor  little  thing — by  an  ac- 
cident :  she  fell  under  a  wheel — oh  !  if  she  had  only  died 
instantly !  But  no,  she  suffered  a  long,  long  time.  From 
that  moment  I  was  softened  ;  before,  I  had  been  hard, 
hard  as  a  pine  knot." 

"Why  ?  did  you  not  love  your  husband  then  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  that  is  one  thing,  that  is  all  very  well  for  a 
young  girl.     You  love  yours,  do  you  not  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  love  him."* 

"  You  love  him  very  much  ?  " 

"  Very  much." 

"  Is  he  very  — "  Tatiana  looked  first  at  Neshdanof, 
then  at  Marianne,  and  did  not  finish.  For  the  second 
time  Marianne  turned  the  conversation.  She  told  Tati- 
ana she  had  given  up  smoking,  for  which  she  praised  her 
highly.  Then  she  began  again  to  talk  of  her  costume, 
reminding  Tatiana  of  her  promise  to  teach  her  a  little 
about  cooking. 

"  And  then,"  she  added,  "  I  have  still  something  else  to 
ask  of  you  :  could  you  find  me  some  coarse,  unbleached 
thread  ?     I  want  to  knit  some  stockings,  perfectly  plain." 

Tatiana  promised  that  all  this  should  be  done,  cleared 
off  the  table,  and  left  the  room  with  her  usual  serene,  self- 
reliant  bearing. 

"  And  now  what  are  we  going  to  do  ? "  said  Marianne  to 
her  companion,  and,  without  waiting  for  his  answer,  "  Lis- 
ten ;  as  our  serious  work  does  not  begin  until  to-morrow, 
why  cannot  we  devote  this  evening  to  literature  ?  Let  us 
read  your  poems.     I  shall  be  a  harsh  critic." 

Neshdanof  objected  for  some  time  ;  at  last  he  yielded  to 
her  persuasions,  and  began  to  read  aloud  from  his  little 
book. 

Marianne  seated  herself  near  him,  looking  full  in  his 
face  while  he  was  reading.  She  was  indeed  a  severe  judge, 
as  she  had  said.  A  great  many  of  the  poems  displeased 
her  ;  she  preferred  the  short  pieces,  purely  lyric,  without 
any  moral  at  the  end. 


22  2    •  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Neslidanof  did  not  read  very  well :  he  dared  not  declaim 
boldly,  and  wishing  at  the  same  time  to  avoid  stiffness,  his 
delivery  was  neither  flesh  nor  fish. 

Marianne  interrupted  him  suddenly  to  ask  if  he  was  fa- 
miliar with  some  verses  of  Dobrolioubof  beginning  with  these 
words,  "The  thought  of  death  saddens  me  but  little,"*  and 
she  repeated  it  from  beginning  to  end — not  much  better 
than  Neshdanof,  but  in  a  somewhat  childish  fashion.  Nesh- 
danof  made  the  remark  that  this  poetry  was  bitter  and 
melancholy  to  the  last  degree  ;  then  he  added  that  he 
(Neshdanof)  would  never  have  written  it,  because  he  need 
not  fear  that  tears  would  be  shed  upon  his  grave.  There 
was  no  one  to  shed  them.  "  They  will  be  shed  for  you  if 
I  survive  you,"  said  Marianne  slowly. 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  the  ceiling,  remained  silent  for  a 
moment,  then  murmured,  as  if  talking  to  herself : 

"  How  could  he  take  my  portrait  from  memory  ? " 

Neshdanof  turned  quickly  toward  her.  "  Yes,  from 
memory." 

Marianne  was  astonished  to  hear  an  answer.  She  had 
no  idea  that  she  had  asked  this  question  aloud. 

"  It  is  most  extraordinary,"  she  continued  in  the  same 
low,  dreamy  tone,  "  for  he  really  has  no  talent  for  painting  : 
what  was  I  saying  ?  "  She  added  aloud,  "  Ah,  yes  ;  it  was 
about  those  lines  of  Dobrolioubof.  One  ought  to  make 
verses  like  Pouchkine,  or  like  these  verses  of  Dobrolioubof. 
It  is  not  poetry,  but  it  is  something  quite  as  good." 

"  And  verses  like  mine,"  said  Neshdanof,  "  should  not 
be  written  at  all,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Verses  like  yours  ?     Oh  !  they  please  your  friends,  not 


*  "  The  thought  of  death  saddens  me  but  little  ;  what  my  sick  spirit 
dreads  is,  that  dea^h  may  play  some  poor  joke  upon  me. 

"  I  fear  lest  over  my  cold  body  some  one  may  shed  hot  tears  ;  lest, 
with  inappropriate  zeal,  some  one  may  place  flowers  on  my  coffin. 

"Lest,  from  disinterested  motives,  a  crowd  of  friends  may  walk 
behind  me,  and  lest,  when  buried  beneath  the  earth,  I  become  an 
object  of  sympathy. 

"  Lest  all  that  I  have  longed  for  so  ardently,  and  so  vainly  wished 
for  all  my  life,  may  come  and  smile  upon  me  with  an  enchanting 
smile  when  I  am  in  my  coffin." 

(Dobrolioubof,  Complete  Works,  Vol.  IV.,  p.  615.) 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  223 

because  they  are  especially  good,  but  because  you  are  a 
good  man  and  they  are  like  you." 

Neshdanof  smiled  saying,  "  Let  us  drop  them  and  me 
too."  Marianne  gave  him  a  little  tap  on  his  hand,  telling 
him  he  was  very  naughty.  A  moment  after  she  said  "  she 
was  very  tired  and  should  go  to  sleep." 

"  By  the  way,  you  know,"  added  she,  shaking  her  short, 
thick  hair,  "  I  have  one  hundred  and  thirty-seven  rubles  ; 
how  much  have  you  ? " 

"  I  have  ninety-eight." 

"  Oh  !  we  are  rich — for  people  who  are  *  simplified  '  ! 
Good-by  till  to-morjow  !  " 

She  left  the  room  :  but  after  a  few  moments,  her  door 
was  softly  opened  and  through  the  crack  her  voice  said 
"  Good  night,"  then,  more  softly,  "  Good  night." 

And  the  key  turned  in  the  lock.  Neshdanof  threw  him- 
self on  the  sofa  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands  ;  then  sud- 
denly he  rose,  walked  toward  her  door,  and  knocked. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  called  Marianne. 

"  I  do  not  say  until  to-morrow,  Marianne,  but  to-mor- 
row !  " 

"  To-morrow,"  gently  answered  the  voice. 


XXIX. 

THE  next  day  very  early  Neshdanof  knocked  again 
at  Marianne's  door.  "  It  is  I !  "  he  answered  to  the 
question  of  "  Who  is  there  ?  "  "  Can  you  come  ? " 

"  Wait  a  moment — directly." 

She  came  out,  and  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 
At  first  she  had  not  recognized  him.  He  wore  a  caftan 
of  yellowish  nankeen,  very  short-waisted,  with  a  double  row 
of  small  buttons  ;  his  hair  was  arranged  in  Russian  fashion 
parted  in  the  middle  ;  he  had  a  blue  handkerchief  tied 
about  his  neck  ;  he  held  in  his  hand  a  cap  of  which  the 
visor  was  broken,  and  on  his  feet  were  unblacked  boots  of 
bullock  skin. 

"  Good  gracious  !  how  ugly  you  are  !  "  exclaimed  Mari- 
anne— then  suddenly  throwing  her  arms  about  his  neck, 
she  kissed  him  warmly.  "  But  why  have  you  chosen  such 
a  costume  ?  you  look  like  a  ^ petit  bourgeois '  from  the 
city,  or  a  peddler,  or  a  retired  servant.  Why  do  you  wear 
this  caftan,  instead  of  a  workman's  jacket,  or  a  simple 
peasant's  armiak  ?  " 

"  Precisely,"  began  Neshdanof,  who  in  this  costume 
had  just  the  air  of  a  small  shopkeeper  ;  he  felt,  it  too,  and 
in  his  heart  was  vexed,  disturbed,  so  much  so,  that  he 
moved  his  hands  mechanically  over  his  dress  as  if  to  brush 
himself. 

"  Paul  assured  me  that  in  a  jacket  or  armiak  I  should 
be  at  once  recognized  ;  while  this  costume,  he  said,  they 
would  swear  I  had  worn  all  my  life.  That  is  not  very  flat- 
tering to  ray  vanity,  by  the  way." 

''  Then  you  are  going  to  begin  at  once  ?  "  inquired  Mari- 
anne hastily. 

"  Yes,  I'm  going  to  try,  though  in  thinking  it  over — " 

"  How  happy  you  are  !  "  interrupted  Marianne. 

■     224 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  225 

"  This  Paul  here  is  a  most  extraordinary  man,"  continued 
Neshdanof;  "he  knows  everything,  he  has  eyes  which 
search  you  through — then,  suddenly,  there  is  a  look  in  his 
face  as  if  everything  passed  by  him  without  his  noticing 
anything.  He  is  very  obliging — and  at  the  same  time  is  a 
bit  of  a  scoffer.  He  has  brought  me  some  pamphlets  from 
Markelof,  whom  he  knows,  and  whom  he  calls  familiarly 
Serge  Michaelovitch.  As  for  Solomine,  he  is  perfectly  de- 
voted to  him,  he  would  go  through  fire  and  water  for  him." 

"  And  Tatiana  would  too,"  said  Marianne.  "  Why  is 
every  one  so  devoted  to  him  ?  " 

Neshdanof  made  no  reply. 

"  What  pamphlets  did  Paul  bring  you  ?  "  asked  Mari- 
anne. 

"  Oh,  only  the  usual  ones.  '  The  Story  of  Four  Broth- 
ers,' and  then — in  short,  only  those  that  are  best  known  ; 
however,  these  are  much  the  best." 

Marianne  looked  about  uneasily, 

"  Where  can  Tatiana  be  ?  She  promised  to  be  here  very 
early." 

"  And  here  she  is,"  said  Tatiana,  coming  into  the  room 
with  a  bundle  in  her  hand.  As  she  reached  the  door,  she 
had  heard  Marianne's  exclamation.  "  You  will  have  plenty 
of  time.     Was  it  not  a  matter  of  business  ?  " 

Marianne  hurried  to  meet  her. 

"  You  have  brought  it  ?  " 

Tatiana  tapped  the  bundle  with  her  hand  saying  : 

"  Everything  is  here — all  ready  ;  you  have  nothing  to  do 
but  to  try  it  on  ;  after  that  you  can  show  yourself,  and  look 
your  prettiest." 

"  Oh,  my  good  Tatiana,  come  quickly,"  and  Marianne 
dragged  her  into  her  chamber. 

Left  alone,  Neshdanof  walked  twice  about  the  room 
with  a  heavy  dragging  step,  which  he  fancied,  no  one  knows 
why,  was  the  step  of  a  little  shopkeeper  ;  he  smelled  his 
sleeve,  then  the  inside  of  his  cap,  and  made  a  grimace  ;  he 
looked  at  himself  in  a  small  glass  against  the  wall  by  the 
window,  and  shook  his  head  ;  decidedly  he  was  not  hand- 
some. 

"  After  all,  so  much  the  better,"  he  thought. 

15 


226  VIRGIN   SOIL. 

Then  he  selected  some  pamphlets,  thrust  them  into  his 
pocket,  pronouncing  at  the  same  time  some  words,  after  the 
fashion  of  the  working  classes,  somewhat  like  this  for  in- 
stance, "  Ho,  you  fellow,  there  !  what  is  the  row  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  it  is  something  like  that  ;  but  bah  ! 
why  need  I  play  the  actor  ?  My  accoutrement  is  quite 
enough." 

Neshdanof  reminded  himself  at  this  moment  of  the  Ger- 
man exile,  who  wanted  to  escape  through  Russia,  though 
he  spoke  Russ  very  badly  ;  he  bought  in  some  country 
town  a  merchant's  cap,  bordered  with  catskin,  and  he  had 
been  everywhere  taken  for  a  merchant,  and  had  thus  suc- 
ceeded in  crossing  the  frontier.  At  this  moment  Solomine 
entered. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  he  said  ;   "  you  are  all  equipped." 

''  It  is  still  very  early,  but  I  suppose  you  wish  to  accus- 
tom yourself  to  your  costume.  All  very  well,  but  you  will 
be  obliged  to  wait,  for  my  master  has  not  yet  gone  ;  he  is 
still  asleep." 

"  I  will  go  out  later,"  answered  Neshdanof  ;  "  I  am  going 
to  take  a  walk  about  the  environs,  while  I  am  waiting  for 
more  precise  instructions." 

"  That  is  right  ;  only  listen,  Alexis — I  shall  call  you  sim- 
ply Alexis,  shall  I  ?  " 

"  Alexis,  yes,  very  well  ;  '  Lixei '  *  if  you  wish,"  added 
Neshdanof  laughing. 

"  No,  no  ;  we  must  not  season  too  highly.  What  is  the 
use  ?  Listen  :  Good  will,  they  say,  is  worth  more  than 
money.  I  see  you  have  some  pamphlets  ;  distribute  them 
freely,  wherever  you  will,  except  in  the  factory  ;  not  there  !  " 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Because,  first,  it  would  be  dangerous  for  you  ;  secondly, 
I  have  promised  my  master  that  it  should  not  be  done  here, 
the  factory  really  belongs  to  him  ;  thirdly,  there  are  already 
some  things  started  among  us — schools,  for  instance — and 
you  might  spoil  all.  Do  what  you  will,  and  as  you  will,  at 
your  own  risk.  I  shall  not  interfere  with  you,  but  do  not 
meddle  with  my  workmen." 

*  Popular  way  of  pronouncing  Alexis. 


VIRGIN  SOU.  227 

"  Prudence  is  always  a  very  good  thing,"  said  Neshdanof 
with  a  half  sarcastic  smile.  Solomine  smiled  broadly,  as 
was  his  wont. 

''  Precisely,  my  good  Alexis,  it  is  always  a  most  excellent 
thing.     But  what  do  I  see  ?     What  have  we  here  ?" 

These  last  exclamations  referred  to  Marianne  who,  in  a 
spotted  calico  dress,  which  had  evidently  been  often  washed, 
with  a  little  yellow  fichu  over  her  shoulders,  and  a  red 
handkerchief  as  a  headdress,  had  just  appeared  at  her 
chamber  door.  Tatiana,  who  was  behind,  was  looking  at 
her  with  amusement. 

Marianne  looked  fresh  and  young  in  this  simple  costume, 
which  was  much  ifiore  becoming  to  her  than  Neshdanof's 
long  caftan  was  to  him. 

"  Vassili  Fedoitch,  I  beg  of  you,  do  not  laugh  at  me," 
said  Marianne,  in  a  pleading  tone,  coloring  as  red  as  a  rose. 

"  Oh,  look  at  them  !  See  our  couple,"  cried  Tatiana 
clapping  her  hands.  "  Only,  my  fine  fellow,  my  little  pigeon, 
do  not  be  vexed — but  listen  to  me.  You  are  very  nice, 
there  is  no  doubt  of  it  ;  but  by  the  side  of  my  little  queen 
you  do  not  cut  a  very  fine  figure." 

"  The  truth  is,"  said  Neshdanof  to  himself,  "  she  is 
charming  !     How  I  love  her  !  " 

"  Here,  look  !  "  continued  Tatiana  ;  "  she  has  exchanged 
rings  with  me  ;  she  has  given  me  her  gold  ring,  and  I  have 
given  her  my  silver  one." 

"  The  girls  among  the  lower  classes  do  not  have  gold 
rings,"  said  Marianne. 

Tatiana  sighed.  "  I  mil  keep  it  for  you,  my  little  dove  ; 
make  yourself  easy." 

"  Come  seat  yourselves,  both  of  you,"  said  Solomine, 
who  during  all  this  had  not  ceased  to  watch  Marianne  with 
his  head  bent.  "  In  other  days,  you  may  remember,  it  was 
the  custom  to  seat  oneself  before  beginning  a  journey,  and 
you  both  are  entering  upon  a  long  and  difficult  road." 

Marianne,  still  blushing,  sat  down  ;  Neshdanof  did  the 
same  ;  then  Solomine  ;  Tatiana  herself  sat  down  on  a  large 
block  of  wood  which  stood  upright. 

Solomine  looked  attentively  at  all  of  them. 

"  I<et  us  step  back  and. see  them  better." 


228  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  How  comfortably  we  are  seated,"  he  added,  half  clos- 
ing his  eyes  ;  then  all  at  once  he  burst  into  a  laugh,  but 
such  a  good,  honest  laugh  that,  so  far  from  wounding  them, 
it  made  all  bright  and  gay. 

But  Neshdanof  rose   quickly.       "  I'm   going,"   he    said, 
*'  this  very  moment ;   for  to  tell  the  truth,  all  this,  though 
"very   pretty,    is   too    much    like   a   farce   with    continual 
change  of  dress." 

"  Make  yourself  easy,"  he  said,  turning  toward  Solo- 
mine,  "  your  factory  shall  not  be  interfered  with,  I  am 
going  to  wander  about  the  suburbs,  and  when  I  return  I 
will  tell  you — and  you,  Marianne — all  my  adventures,  that 
is,  if  I  have  anything  to  relate.  Give  me  your  hand  and 
wish  me  good  luck." 

"  If  you  were  to  take  a  little  tea  before  you  go  ?  "  sug- 
gested Tatiana. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  why  lose  time  for  that  ?  If  I  should  want  it  I 
can  go  to  a  tavern." 

Tatiana  shook  her  head,  saying,  "  Nowadays  on  our 
highways  there  are  as  many  taverns  as  there  are  fleas  in  a 
sheep's  wool.  There  are  large  villages  everywhere,  and 
village  means  tavern." 

"  Good-by  all,"  said  Neshdanof,  correcting  himself,  as 
he  remembered  the  part  he  was  playing.  But  he  had  not 
yet  reached  the  door  when  he  saw  Paul  start  up  under  his 
nose  out  of  the  darkness  of  the  hall.  He  presented  him 
with  a  long,  thin,  pilgrim's  staff,  from  which  the  bark  was 
cut  spirally  its  whole  length. 

"  Pray  take  this,  Alexis  Dimitritch,"  he  said,  "  to  use  on 
the  road,  and  the  farther  you  hold  it  from  you  the  more  it 
will  be  the  right  thing." 

Neshdanof  took  the  staff  without  saying  anything  and 
went  out.  Paul  followed  him.  Tatiana  was  also  going 
away,  but  Marianne  came  up  to  detain  her. 

"  Stay,  Tatiana,  I  really  have  need  of  you." 

"  I'm  coming  back  directly  ;  I  am  only  going  for  the 
samovai'.  Your  companion  has  gone  away  without  taking 
any  tea ;  he  must  be  in  a  great  hurry,  but  that  is  no  reason 
you  should  fast.     You'll  have  plenty  of  time." 

Tatiana  went  out,     Solomine  rose  and  went  to  the  other 


VIRGJy  SOIL.  229 

end  of  the  room,  when  at  last  Marianne  turned  toward 
him,  somewhat  astonished  at  his  silence.  She  saw  on  his 
face,  in  his  eyes,  which  were  fixed  upon  her,  an  expression 
she  had  never  remarked  in  him  before — an  expression  of 
uneasiness,  of  interrogation,  almost  of  curiosity.  She  was 
troubled,  and  colored  again,  and  Solomine,  as  if  ashamed 
of  what  he  had  allowed  her  to  read  in  his  face,  began  to 
talk  in  a  louder  voice  than  usual. 

"  Come,  come,  Marianne,  this  is  the  beginning  !  " 

"  The  beginning  ?  What  beginning  ?  See  here,  I  feel 
very  uncomfortable  ;  Alexis  was  quite  right,  we  are  only 
playing  a  farce  !  ". 

Solomine  sat  down  again  on  his  chair. 

"  But — permit  me,  Marianne,  how  did  you  mean  to  begin  ? 
We  haven't  got  to  build  barricades  with  a  flag  floating  over 
them,  and  to  hurrah  for  the  Republic — and  besides,  that  is 
not  a  woman's  business.  I  will  tell  you  what  you  have  to 
do.  To-day  you  will  see  some  Loukerie  or  other,  and  you 
will  teach  her — never  mind  what — something  good  ;  and  it 
will  be  no  easy  task,  for  a  Loukerie  is  not  very  bright,  and 
she  disturbs  you.  She's  sure  there  is  no  need  of  her  know- 
ing what  you  wish  to  teach  her ;  then,  at  the  end  of  two  or 
three  weeks  you  will  make  another  attempt  with  another — 
Loukerie  ;  and,  in  the  interval,  you  will  wash  a  child's 
face,  or  you  will  teach  it  the  alphabet,  or  you  will  gire 
some  medicine  to  a  sick  person.     This  is  the  real  beginning." 

"But  the  Sisters  of  Charity  do  just  that.  If  it's  as  you 
say,  what  is  the  good  of  all  this  ? "  And  she  pointed  to  her 
dress  and  all  that  was  about  her.  "  I  had  dreamt  of  better 
things." 

"  You  would  like  to  make  a  sacrifice  of  yourself?" 

Marianne's  eyes  lighted  up. 

"  Yes,  yes,  indeed  !  " 

"  And  Neshdanof  ? " 

Marianne  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Neshdanof  ?  Ah,  well  ;  we  shall  go  together — or  I 
shall  go  alone." 

Solomine  looked  fixedly  at  Marianne. 

"  Listen  to  me  !  "  said  he  ;  "  don't  be  offended  at  my 
plain  words  ;  but,  from  my  point   of   view,   washing  and 


230  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

combing  a  scurfy  little  child  is  a  sacrifice — and  a  great 
sacrifice — of  Avhich  few  people  are  capable," 

"  But  I  don't  refuse  to  do  that." 

"  I  know  it — yes — you  are  even  capable  of  it.  You  will 
do  that,  while  waiting,  and  perhaps,  later,  something  else." 

"  But  at  first  I  must  get  Tatiana  to  teach  me." 

"  Certainly  ;  get  her  to  teach  you.  You  will  wash  the 
dishes,  you  will  pluck  the  chickens — and  later,  who  knows  ? 
You  may  perhaps  save  your  country." 

"  You  are  making  fun  of  me  ?  " 

Solomine  shook  his  head  gently. 

"  No,  my  good  Marianne,  believe  me,  I  am  not  laughing 
at  you  ;  my  words  are  the  simple  truth.  As  the  times  are 
now,  you  Russian  momen  are  much  more  sensible  and  better 
than  we  are." 

Marianne,  who  had  dropped  her  eyes,  raised  them. 

"  I  should  like  to  fulfill  your  expectation,  Solomine,  and 
then  die." 

Solomine  rose. 

"  No  ;  live,  live  !  that  is  the  most  important  thing.  By 
the  way,  have  you  no  curiosity  to  know  what  is  going  on  at 
your  house  about  your  flight  ?  Perhaps  they  are  trying  to 
find  you.  You  have  only  to  speak  to  Paul,  and  he  can  find 
everything  out  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye." 

"  What  an  astonishing  man  Paul  is  !  "  said  Marianne  sur- 
prised. 

"  Yes,  he  is  rather  astonishing.  For  instance,  when 
you  and  Alexis  are  to  be  married,  it  is  he  who  will  arrange 
everything  with  Zossime.  You  remember,  don't  you,  the 
priest  I  have  spoken  to  you  about  ?  but,  just  now,  there  is 
no  necessity  for  that.     No  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  No  ?     Oh,  very  well !  " 

Solomine  drew  near  to  the  door  which  separated  the 
door  of  Neshdanof's  chamber  from  that  of  Marianne. 

"  What  are  you  looking  at  ? "  asked  Marianne. 

"Can  this  be  locked?" 

"Yes,  it  locks,"  said  Marianne  in  a  low  voice. 

Solomine  came  toward  her.  She  still  sat  with  her  eyes 
cast  down. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  231 

"Very  well,  then,"  he  said  cheerfully  ;  ''  there  is  no  need 
of  knowing  what  has  been  resolved  ujDon  by  the  Sipiagins  ; 
this  is  fully  understood." 

Solomine  moved  as  if  to  go  out. 

"  Solomine  !  " 

"  What  is  it  ? " 

"  Tell  me,  please,  why  you,  who  are  always  so  taciturn, 
are  now  so  talkative  with  me  ?  You  do  not  know  how 
much  pleasure  it  has  given  me." 

"  Why  ?  "  Solomine  took  the  young  girl's  soft  little  hands 
into  his,  so  large  and  hard.  "  Why  ?  Most  probably  be- 
cause I  like  you  so  much.    Good-by." 

He  went  out.  Marianne  stood  motionless,  watching  him 
as  he  left  the  room.  After  a  moment's  thought,  she  went 
to  seek  Tatiana,  who  had  not  yet  brought  the  samovar. 
She  took,  it  is  true,  a  cup  of  tea,  but  she  washed  the  cups 
and  saucers,  plucked  the  chickens,  and  even  combed  the 
dirty,  tangled  hair  of  a  little  boy. 

At  dinner-time,  she  returned  to  her  own  room  and  had 
not  long  to  wait  for  Neshdanof. 

He  came  in,  tired,  covered  with  dust,  and  threw  himself 
upon  the  sofa. 

She  sat  down  by  his  side  immediately. 

"Come,  come,  tell  me  all  about  it." 

He  answered  her  in  a  weak,  tired  voice  : 

"  Do  you  remember  these  two  lines  : 

'  It  would  all  be  ridiculous 
If  it  hadn't  been  sad?' 

You  remember  them,  don't  you  ? " 

"Certainly." 

"  Very  well ;  these  two  lines  apply  perfectly  to  my  first 
expedition  ;  but  no,  on  the*  whole  it  is  really  ridiculous.  In 
the  first  place,  I  am  convinced  that  nothing  is  easier  than 
to  play  a  part  ;  no  one  has  even  thought  of  suspecting  me  ; 
but  one  thing,  of  which  I  hadn't  thought,  is  the  necessity  of 
getting  ready  beforehand  some  story  ;  otherwise,  when 
people  ask  you,  '  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  '  and  '  What 
are  you  going  to  do  ? '  you  have  nothing  to  say.  After  all, 
even  that  is  not  really  necessary.     It  is  quite  enough  to 


232  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

ask  a  mail  to  take  a  glass  of  brandy,  and  tell  him  some 
humbugging  story  or  other." 

"Ah,  so  that  is  what  you  have  been  doing?"  asked 
Marianne. 

"  Yes,  as  well  as  I  could  ;  furthermore  every  one,  without 
exception,  is  discontented,  and  not  one  of  them  has  even 
the  faintest  desire  to  know  how  to  remedy  this  dissatisfac- 
tion ;  but,  as  a  propagandist,  I  am  not  very  strong.  I  have 
left  without  saying  anything  two  pamphlets  in  two  huts. 
I  have  slipped  one  into  a  telega.  What  will  become  of 
them  God  only  knows.  I  have  offered  them  to  four  dif- 
ferent persons.  One  asked  if  my  pamphlet  was  a  book  of 
devotions,  and  did  not  take  it ;  another  declared  he  did  not 
know  how  to  read,  and  took  it  for  his  children,  on  account 
of  the  picture  on  the  cover  ;  the  third  began  to  say,  '  Yes, 
so  it  is,  so  it  is.'  Then  at  the  moment  when  I  least  ex- 
pected it,  he  overwhelmed  me  with  insults  and  refused  it 
as  the  others  had  done  ;  at  last  the  fourth  accepted  it,  and 
even  with  warm  thanks,  but  I  do  not  believe  he  under- 
stood one  single  word  of  all  I  said  to  him.  A  dog  bit  my 
foot  ;  a  woman  at  the  door  of  her  hut  threatened  me  with 
her  poker,  crying,  *  How,  you  rascal,  rubbishing  Moscow 
vagabonds  !  won't  there  ever  be  an  end  to  you  ? '  And  then 
a  soldier  on  unlimited  leave  of  absence  chased  me,  shouting, 
'  Hold  on,  my  friend,  hold  on,  we'll  settle  your  business  ! ' 
And  yet  he  had  just  got  drunk  at  my  expense." 

"  And  then  ?  " 

"  And  then  ?  I  had  on  too  large  a  boot,  which  chafed 
my  foot,  and  now  I  am  hungry,  and  my  head  aches  as  if 
it  would  split  from  all  the  brandy  and  water  I've  had  to 
take." 

"  Have  you  taken  much  ?  " 

"  No,  very  little,  only  enough  to  start  them  drinking,  but  I 
went  into  six  taverns.  But  I  can't  bear  that  drug  brandy  ! 
How  can  our  peasants  drink  it  as  they  do  ?  It  is  incon- 
ceivable !  If  it  is  necessary  to  drink  brandy  in  order  to 
simplify  ourselves,  then  no,  thank  you  !  " 

"  And  you  say  that  no  one  suspected  you  ?  " 

"  No  one.  There  was  one  tavern-keeper,  however,  a  big, 
pale  man  with  light-colored  eyes,  who  looked  at  me  suspici- 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  233 

oiisly.  I  heard  him  say  to  his  wife,  '  Keep  your  eye  on 
that  red-haired  fellow — squint  ! '  (I  never  knew  before  that  I 
squinted.)  '  He  is  a  sharper,  see  how  queerly  he  drinks.' 
What  queerly  meant  in  this  connection  I  do  not  know, 
but  it  evidently  was  not  a  compliment.  It  was  somewhat 
like  the  movetone  {niauvais  ton)  in  Gogol's  Rcvisor ;  you  re- 
member it.  Perhaps  it  is  because  I  tried  to  pour  my  brandy 
away  under  the  table  without  any  one's  seeing  me.  Ah  ! 
what  hard  work  it  is  for  an  esthetic  to  bring  himself  into 
contact  with  real  life  !  " 

"  You  will  succeed  better  next  time,"  said  Marianne,  to 
console  him  ;  "  but  I'm  glad  you  look  upon  your  first  at- 
tempt from  the  humorous  side.  On  the  whole  you  have 
not  been  bored,  have  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  even  been  amused.  But  I  know  very 
well  that  I  shall  think  it  all  over  again,  and  that  I  shall 
feel  very  sad  and  disheartened  about  it." 

"  No,  no  ;  I  shall  not  let  you  think  about  it.  I  will  tell 
you  what  I  have  been  doing.  They  are  going  to  bring  up 
dinner  ;  and  I  have,  in  the  first  place,  most  beautifully 
washed  the  pot  in  which  Tatiana  made  our  cabbage  soup. 
I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  by  and  by." 

She  did  as  she  said. 

Neshdanof,  while  listening  to  what  she  had  to  say,  looked 
at  her  all  the  time  so  steadily  that  she  kept  pausing  to  give 
him  time  to  explain  why  he  looked  at  her  so  ;  but  he  kept 
silent.  After  dinner  she  proposed  that  he  should  let  her 
read  aloud  something  of  Spielhagen's,  but  she  had  hardly 
finished  the  first  page  when  he  suddenly  rose,  came  up  to 
her,  and  fell  at  her  feet.  She  drew  herself  up  ;  he  embraced 
her  knees  with  both  arms  and  burst  forth  in  passionate, 
mad,  desperate  words  :  "  He  wished  to  die,  he  felt  that 
he  should  soon  die."  She  did  not  stir,  she  did  not  resist,  she 
quietly  submitted  to  his  violent  embrace  ;  she  looked  down 
at  him  with  a  gentle  and  even  caressing  expression. 

She  placed  both  her  hands  upon  his  head,  which  he  had 
feverishly  buried  in  the  folds  of  her  dress. 

But  her  very  quiet  affected  him  more  deeply  than  any 
efforts  to  repel  him  which  she  might  have  made.  He  arose, 
and  said,  "  Forgive  me,  Marianne,  for  what  has  passed  to- 


234  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

day  and  yesterday.     Tell  me  again  that  you  are  willing  to 
wait  until  I  shall  be  worthy  of  your  love — and  pardon 


me. 


I  have  given  you  my  word  and  I  cannot  break  it." 
"  Thanks— good-by." 
He  went  out ;  Marianne  shut  herself  up  in  her  chamber. 


XXX. 

A  FORTNIGHT  afterward,  Neshdanof  was  sitting  at 
his  little  table  writing  to  his  friend  Siline  by  the 
feeble,  dim  light  of  a  tallow  candle.  It  was  late  in  the 
night.  On  the  so^,  on  the  floor,  lay  different  articles  of 
clothing,  soiled,  and  hastily  taken  off;  a  slow,  steady  rain 
was  beating  against  the  windows,  and  great  puffs  of  warm  air 
striking  at  intervals  against  the  roof  sounded  like  deep  sighs. 

"My  dear  Vladimir,  I  write  to  you  without  giving  my 
address,  and  my  letter  will  be  given  to  a  messenger  to  post 
from  a  distant  spot,  for  my  presence  here  is  a  secret ;  to 
betray  this  secret  would  be  to  ruin  another  person  with 
myself  Let  it  be  enough  to  say  that  I  have  been  in  a  large 
mill  with  Marianne  for  a  fortnight.  We  ran  away  from  the 
Sipiagins  the  very  day  I  wrote  to  you.  We  have  received 
here  the  hospitality  of  a  friend  whom  I  shall  call  Vassili ;  he 
is  in  charge  of  the  mill,  and  is  a  capital  fellow.  Our  stay 
here  is  but  temporary.  We  are  waiting  for  the  proper  time 
to  act ;  it  is  true  that,  judging  from  what  is  going  on,  the 
moment  is  not  near.  My  dear  Vladimir,  I  am  very,  very 
sad. 

"First,  there  is  something  I  must  tell  you  ;  although  I  ran 
away  with  Marianne,  we  still  live  as  brother  and  sister.  She 
loves  me,  and  she  told  me  she  would  be  mine — if  I  ever  felt 
that  I  had  a  right  to  ask  it. 

"  I  do  not  feel  that  I  have  the  right,  my  dear  Vladimir  ! 
She  believes  in  me  and  in  my  honesty  and  I  shall  not  unde- 
ceive her.  I  know  that  I  have  never  loved,  and  (of  this  I 
am  very  sure)  that  I  shall  never  love  any  one  more  than  her. 
But  it  makes  no  difference.  How  could  I  link  forever  her 
destiny  with  mine .?  Join  a  living  being  to  a  corpse,  or  at 
least  to  a  half-dead  body  ?  What  would  my  conscience  say  .-* 
You  will  answer,  that  if  my  passion  were  the  stronger,  my 

235 


236  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

conscience  would  keep  silence.  But,  honestly,  I'm  nothing 
but  a  corpse ;  an  honest,  well-meaning  corpse,  if  you 
choose.  Now  don't  say  that's  only  my  usual  exaggeration. 
Every  word  is  the  truth,  the  simple  truth.  Marianne  is  a 
very  earnest  nature  ;  at  this  moment  she  has  plunged  wholly 
into  this  work  ;  she  believes  in  it — and  1 1 

"  But  to  leave  love,  and  personal  feelings,  and  all  such 
things. 

"For  a  fortnight  I  have  been  living  in  the  midst  of  the 
people,  and  it  would  be  hard  to  imagine  a  duller  occupa- 
tion. Certaaily  it  is  my  fault,  and  mine  alone.  I  am  not 
a  Slavophil ;  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  get  strength  from 
the  people  ;  I  never  use  them  for  my  own  ailments,  as  if  they 
were  a  soothing  poultice  ;  no,  I  want  rather  to  act  upon 
them  ;  but  how  .' 

"  How  should  we  proceed  }  In  fact,  when  lam  with  them 
I  can  only  listen  and  observe,  but  if  I  try  to  speak,  it  won't 
go  at  all.  I  remind  myself  of  a  bad  actor  playing  too  hard 
a  part.  A  feeling  of  conscientiousness  comes  over  me  at  the 
wrong  moment,  and  then  doubt  or  a  wretched  instinctive 
sense  of  the  ridiculous,  that  I  turn  against  myself. 

"It's  all  worth  less  than  nothing.  I'm  disgusted  with  these 
old  clothes  that  I've  put  on,  with  this  whole  masquerade, 
as  "Vassili  calls  it. 

"They  say  we  should  begin  by  studying  the  language  of 
the  people,  by  learning  their  ways  and  habits.  That  is 
false,  a  thousand  times  flilse.  Have  faith,  believe  in  what 
you  say,  and  speak  as  you  please. 

"  I  had  the  chance  to  hear  a  sort  of  sermon  delivered  by 
a  Raskolnik  prophet. 

"  Heaven  knows  what  a  jumble  of  biblical  phrases,  quota- 
tions from  books,  and  popular  expressions,  not  even  Russian 
but  Little-Russian,  pronouncing  /  like  ts,  and  /  for  e  ;  and 
then  he  kept  using  the  same  words  over  and  over  again,  like 
a  grouse  that's  calling  his  mate.  '  The  spirit  has  seized  me, 
the  spirit  has  seized  me ' — but  his  eyes  were  like  glowing 
coals,  his  voice  low  and  powerful,  he  clenched  his  fists,  he 
was  made  of  iron,  that  man  1  His  hearers  did  not  under- 
stand a  single  word,  but  what  veneration,  what  enthusiasm  ! 
and  they  followed  him. 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


237 


"  But  as  for  me,  when  I  begin  to  speak  I'm  like  a  criminal 
who  is  begging  pardon.  Why  not  turn  Raskolnik  P  Their 
science  is  soon  acquired  ;  but  the  faith,  the  faith,  where  can 
it  be  got  ?  INIarianne — there  is  some  one  who  has  faith. 
She's  at  work  as  soon  as  it's  daylight ;  she  spends  her  time 
with  Tatiana — a  good  woman,  not  at  all  stupid,  and  who, 
let  me  say  in  parenthesis,  pretends  that  we  want  to  '  sim- 
plify'  ourselves,  and  says  we  are  'simplified;'  well,  she 
passes  her  time  with  this  Tatiana  ;  she's  always  about  and 
active,  running  around  like  an  ant. 

''She  is  delighted  that  her  hands  are  becoming  red  and 
hard,  and  she  is  always  awaiting  the  moment  of  climbing  the 
scaffold  if  it  should  be  necessary.  And  as  for  me,  when  I 
try  to  tnlk  to  her  about  my  feelings,  I  have  a  sort  of 
feeling  of  shame  ;  it  seems  to  me  that  I  am  putting  my 
hands  on  another's  property,  and  then  that  look  !  oh,  that 
terrible  look,  submissive  and  humble,  as  if  saying,  '  I  am 
yours  if  you  choose — but  remember  !  and,  what  is  the 
use  ?     Is  there  nothing  better  and  loftier  in  the  world  ? ' 

"Which  means,  in  other  words,  '  Put  on  a  dirty  caftan  and 
go  among  the  people  !  ' 

"Oh,  how  I  curse  my  nervousness,  my  delicate  senses, 
my  susceptibility  to  impressions,  my  disgust  at  trifles,  all 
this  heritage  from  an  aristocratic  father  !  What  right  had 
he  to  call  me  into  being,  with  organs  out  of  harmony  with 
the  sphere  in  which  I  was  fated  to  live  ?  To  give  birth  to 
a  bird  and  throw  it  into  the  water  1  To  beget  a  man  of 
taste  and  hurl  him  into  the  mire  !  Create  a  democrat,  a 
friend  of  the  people,  who  is  sickened  by  the  mere  smell  of 
vodka  ! 

"  But  don't  let  me  go  so  far  as  to  blame  my  own  father  ! 
For  if  I'm  a  democrat  it's  my  fault  and  not  his. 

"  Yes,  Vladimir,  things  are  going  ill.     Evil,  gloomy  ideas 
haunt  me.      But,  you  will  ask,  is  it  possible  that  during  this 
fortnight  you  haven't  come  across  anything  or  any  person, 
ignorant,  it  may  be,  but  loyal  and  genuine,  to  bring  you 
consolation .'' 

"What  answer  shall  I  make.''  I  have,  in  fact,  had  some 
such  experience.  I  have  stumbled  on  a  capital  fellow,  of 
an  excellent  and  energetic  character.     But  all   I  could  do, 


238  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

pamphlets  and  all,  have  been  absolutely  useless.  Paul,  a 
workman,  in  the  factory  (he  is  a  very  bright  and  intelligent 
young  man,  who  is  Vassili's  right  hand,  and  will  be  foreman 
in  time — I  believe  I  spoke  of  him  above),  has  a  friend,  a 
young  man,  Elisarius — a  pretty  name,  isn't  it  ? — a  clear- 
headed fellow,  open-hearted,  and  honest  as  the  day  ;  well, 
as  soon  as  we  talk  together,  there  seems  to  be  a  wall  between 
us  ;  he  looks  at  me  as  if  he  were  saying,   '  No,  no.' 

"  There  was  some  one  else  I  met,  he  belonged  to  the  more 
violent  kind  ;  'Now,  don't  talk  so  much,  sir/  he  said  ;  'just 
one  word — do  you  want,  yes  or  no,  to  give  us  all  the  land 
you  own  } '  '  Come,  come,'  I  answered  ;  '  what  makes  you 
think  that  I'm  a  proprietor  ?  '  (I  remember  saying  '  God  bless 
you  '  to  myself.)  '  But  if  you  belong  to  the  people,'  he  an- 
swered, 'what's  the  good  of  all  this  stuff  you're  talking? 
Leave  me  alone,  please.' 

"I  have  noticed  one  thing:  those  who  like  to  listen  and  take 
the  pamphlets  without  being  urged,  you  may  be  sure  are  poor 
creatures,  'doubled  up  by  wind,'  as  they  say  with  us.  Or 
else  you  come  across  some  fine  talker,  some  fellow  with  a 
scrap  of  education,  whose  whole  learning  consists  in  using 
continually  one  and  the  same  word,  his  favorite  word.  One 
of  them  annoved  me  terribly  with  the  word  '  pruduction.' 
To  everything  I  said  he  answered,  '  Oh,  yes,  it's  the  '  pru- 
ductiom'  It  was  frightful  !  One  thing  more  :  do  you  re- 
member a  long  time  ago  there  used  to  be  a  good  deal  said 
about  men  who  were  c/^  /ro/>,  oi  the  Hamlets?  Well,  only 
think  of  it,  there  are  just  such  people  among  the  peasants, 
only  of  course,  with  a  peculiar  color  of  their  own.  Most 
of  them  have  an  unhealthy  complexion.  They  are  rather 
interesting  people,  moreover,  who  are  always  glad  to  listen 
to  you  ;  but  as  for  action,  they  are  not  worth  a  kopeck,  they 
are  just  like  the  Hamlets  of  former  days. 

' '  What  can  we  do,  then  ?  Establish  a  secret  printing-press  ? 
But  what  is  the  use  ?  There  are  plenty  of  pamphlets  ;  we 
have  some  which  tell  the  peasant,  '  Make  the  sign  of  the 
cross  and  grasp  your  ax  1 '  and  nothing  else.  Write  novels 
on  the  subject,  which  shall  be  drawn  from  actual  models  ? 
Perhaps  no  one  would  print  them.  Must  we  really  take  an 
ax  ?     But   against  whom  ?     With  whom  ?     Why  ?     That  a 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  239 

government  soldier  may  shoot  you  down  with  a  government 
musket  ?  But  that  would  only  be  a  complicated  form  of 
suicide.  If  I'd  got  to  that  point,  I'd  rather  kill  myself  with 
my  own  hands.  I  could  at  least  choose  the  time  and  man- 
ner and  place  at  which  to  aim  the  muzzle  of  my  pistol. 

"To  tell  the  truth,  it  seems  to  me  that  if  there  were  any- 
M-here  no  matter  where,  a  rising  of  the  people,  I  would  take 
part  in  it,  not  so  much  to  free  whoever  it  might  be  (freeing 
other  people  when  we  are  not  free  ourselves  !),  but  to  finish 
with  it  once  for  all. 

"Our  friend  Vassili,  who  has  taken  us  in  here,  is  a  happ) 
man  ;  he  is  one  of  us,  but  how  calm  he  is  1  nothing  disturbs 
him.  If  he  were  any  one  else,  I  should  have  said  all  sorts  of 
disagreeable  things  to  him — but  with  him  it's  impossible. 
The  real  truth  is,  that  a  man's  character  is  everything.  His 
opinions  nothing,  Vassili  has  a  character  in  which  one 
picks  no  flaws  ;  and  he  is  right  ! 

"  He  passes  long  hours  with  Marianne  and  me.  Strangely 
enough,  I  love  her  and  she  loves  me  (don't  laugh,  this  is 
the  simple  truth),  and  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  her,  while 
she  talks  and  discusses  with  him  and  listens  to  everything 
he  says.  I'm  not  at  all  jealous  of  him  ;  he  is  taking  meas- 
ures to  get  a  place  for  her,  at  least  she  is  all  the  time  asking 
him  to  do  so  ;  but  I  am  full  of  bitterness  whenever  I  look 
at  them.  Yet  I  need  only  say  the  word  marriage,  and  she 
would  accept  at  once,  and  Father  Zossime  would  come  upon 
the  stage,  and  we  should  hear  the  opening  chorus,  '  Isaiah, 
enter  into  happiness  !  '*  In  short,  the  whole  thing.  But  I 
should  not  be  any  happier,  and  there  would  be  absolutely 
nothing  changed.  There  is  no  escape  from  my  situation. 
Oh  yes,  life  has  cut  me  from  too  scant  a  pattern,  as  our 
drunken  tailor  used  to  say,  do  you  remember,  when  he 
was  complaining  about  his  wife.? 

"Besides,  I  know  this  can't  last  long.  I'm  sure  there's 
something  brewing. 

"  Didn't  I  ask  for  immediate  action  }  haven't  I  proved  that 
we  must  begin  ?     Well,  we  shall  begin. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  spoke  to  you  of  another  compan- 


*  Marriage  hymn  sung  in  the  churches. 


240  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

ion  I  have,  a  relation  of  the  Sipiagins  ?     He  is  preparing 
for  us  a  mess  which  will  be  hard  to  swallow. 

"I  meant  to  finish  my  letter  ;  but,  how  can  I  help  it? 
whatever  I  may  be  doing,  I  scribble  verses.  I  don't  read 
them  to  Marianne,  she  doesn't  care  for  them  ;  you  i>raise 
them  sometimes,  and  what  is  more,  you  never  speak  of  them 
to  any  one  else.  I  have  been  struck  by  something  that 
happens  all  over  Russia.     But  here  are  the  lines  : 

"  SLEEP. 

"  It  was  long  since  I  had  seen  the  place  of  my  birth,  but  I  found 
there  no  change.  Deathlike  torpor,  absence  of  thought,  roofless 
houses,  ruined  walls,  filth,  and  vileness,  and  poverty,  and  misery,  the 
insolent  or  sullen  looks  of  slaves,  all  is  as  before.  Our  people 
has  become  free,  and  its  hand,  as  of  yore,  hangs  powerless  by  its 
side.  Nothing,  nothing  is  changed.  In  one  respect  alone  have  we 
surpassed  Europe,  Asia,  the  whole  world.  No,  my  dear  fellow-coun- 
trymen have  never  slept  so  terrible  a  sleep. 

"  Every  one  is  asleep  :  everywhere  in  the  village,  the  city,  in  the 
talega,  the  sleigh,  day  and  night,  sitting  and  standing — the  merchant, 
the  tckiiiovnik  sleeps  ;  in  his  tower  sleeps  the  watchman,  under  the 
cold  of  the  snows,  beneath  the  heat  of  the  sun.  And  the  criminal 
sleeps,  and  the  judge  slumbers  ;  the  peasants  are  sleeping  the  sleep 
of  death  ;  they  gather  in  the  harvest,  they  toil  in  the  fields — they  sleep  ; 
they  thresh  the  corn,  still  sleeping  ;  father,  mother,  and  children  all 
asleep.  He  who  beats  and  he  who  is  beaten,  both  sleep.  The  tavern 
alone  is  awake,  its  eye  always  open.  And  clasping  between  its  five 
fingers  a  jug  of  brandy,  its  head  toward  the  North  Pole,  its  feet  at 
the  Caucasus,  sleeps  in  an  eternal  sleep — Russia,  the  holy  country  ! " 

"Please  excuse  me  ;  I  did  not  mean  to  send  you  such  a 
sad  letter  without  giving  you  something  to  laugh  at,  at  least 
at  the  end  (you  have  probably  noticed  some  bad  rhymes — 
Pshaw  !). 

"When  shall  I  write  you  again  }  And  shall  I  write  to 
you  ?  Whatever  may  happen,  I  am  sure  you  will  not  for- 
get 

"  Your  faithful  friend, 

"  A.  N. 


<< 


P.  S. — Yes,  our  people  sleep.    But  I  imagine  that  if  any- 
thing is  to  wake  them  up,  it  will  not  be  what  we  think." 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  241 

When  he  had  reached  the  end,  Neshdanof  threw  down 
his  pen  and  said  to  himself,  "Now  try  to  go  to  sleep,  and  to 
forget  all  this  nonsense,  rhymester  !  " 

He  went  to  bed,  but  sleep  was  long  in  coming. 

The  next  morning  IVIarianne  woke  him  up  by  going 
through  his  room  to  go  to  Tatiana  ;  but  he  had  scarcely  had 
time  to  dress  himself,  when  he  saw  her  come  back  with 
pleasure  and  excitement  on  her  face  ;  she  seemed  very  much 
moved. 

' '  Do  you  know,  Alexis,  they  say  that  in  the  district  of 
T ,  close  by  here,  it's  already  begun  ?  " 

"  Begun  !     Who»has  begun  ?     Who  told  you  ?  " 

' '  Paul.  They  say  the  peasants  have  risen  ;  that  they  are 
unwilling  to  pay  the  taxes  ;  that  they  are  forming  mobs." 

"  Did  you  hear  that  with  your  own  ears?  " 

"Tatiana  told  me.      But  here's  Paul ;  you  can  ask  him." 

Paul  entered,  and  confirmed  what  Marianne  had  said. 

"  There  is  trouble  in  the  district  of  T ,  that's  sure," 

said  he,  shaking  his  beard,  and  snapping  his  bright,  dark 
eyes.  "It's  Markelofs  work,  probably.  He  hasn't  been 
home  for  five  days." 

Neshdanof  took  his  cap. 

"  Where  are  you  going.?  "  asked  Marianne. 

"But — over  there, "  he  answered,  frowning,  without  rais- 
ing his  eyes ;    "to  the  district  of  T ." 

"So  am  I,  then.  You'll  take  me,  of  course.  Just  give 
me  time  to  get  a  handkerchief  to  throw  over  my  head." 

"It's  not  a  woman's  work,"  answered  Neshdanof  gloom- 
ily, his  eyes  cast  down,  with  a  sort  of  irritated  air. 

"No,  no!  you  are  right  to  go,  otherwise  Markelof 
might  take  you  for  a  coward.      But  I  shall  go  with  you." 

"  I'm  not  a  coward,"  said  Neshdanof,  in  the  same  gloomy 
way. 

"  I  meant  he  would  take  us  both  for  cowards.  I'm  go- 
ing with  you." 

Marianne  went  to  her  room  to  get  her  handkerchief. 
Paul  uttered  a  "ho,  ho!"  of  anxiety,  and  at  once  dis- 
appeared.    He  ran  to  carry  Solomine  word. 

Before  Marianne  had  got  back,  Solomine  came  into  the 
room.     Neshdanof  was  standing   before   the  window,    his 

16 


24  2  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

head  on  his  arm,  and  his  arm  on  the  window.  Solomine 
tapped  him  on  the  shoulder.  He  turned  quickly  ;  his  dis- 
hevelled beard  and  hair — he  had  not  finished  dressing 
— gave  him  a  wild,  strange  appearance. 

Solomine  had  also  changed  in  this  last  fortnight ;  he  had 
grown  sallower,  his  face  was  drawn,  his  upper  lip  was 
raised  slightly  so  as  to  show  his  teeth.  He  too  seemed 
troubled,  so  far  at  least  as  a  well-balanced  mind  can  be 
troubled. 

"  Markelof  couldn't  restrain  himself,"  he  said.  "That 
may  end  badly  for  him  in  the  first  place — and  for  others — " 

''I  want  to  see  what  it  amounts  to — "  interrupted 
Neshdanof 

"So  do  I,"  added  Marianne,  as  she  appeared  on  the 
threshold. 

Solomine  turned  slowly  toward  her. 

"  I  shouldn't  advise  you  to,  Marianne,  You  might  be- 
tray yourself  and  us  too,  without  meaning  it  and  without 
any  need.  Let  Neshdanof  go  and  scent  it  out,  if  he 
chooses — not  too  near,  however  !   But  why  should  you  go  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  let  him  go  alone." 

"  You  would  be  in  his  way." 

Marianne  looked  at  Neshdanof.  He  was  standing  mo- 
tionless, his  face,  too,  was  motionless  and  dejected. 

"  But  if  there's  danger  ?  "  she  urged. 

Solomine  smiled. 

"  You  can  be  easy  ;  when  there's  danger  I  shall  let  3'ou 
go. 

Marianne  took  off  the  handkerchief  from  her  head,  and 
sat  down. 

Then  Solomine  turned  toward  Neshdanof.  "And  you, 
my  friend."  he  said  seriously,  somewhat  thoughtfully. 
"  It's  possible  all  this  has  been  exaggerated  ;  at  any  rate 
I  beg  that  you  will  be  prudent.  I'm  going  to  send  some 
one  to  show  you  the  way.  You'll  promise,  Neshdanof.!* 
You'll  promise  t  " 

*'Yes." 

"Without  fail?" 

"Yes,  since  everyone  here  has  to  obey  you,  beginning 
with  Marianne." 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  243 

Neshdanof  went  out  into  the  hall  without  taking  leave. 
Paul  emerged  from  a  dark  corner,  and  ran  down  the  stair- 
case ahead  of  him,  with  his  hob-nailed  boots  clattering 
loudly.     It  was  he  who  was  to  go  with  Neshdanof. 

Solomine  sat  down  by  Marianne. 

"You  heard  what  Neshdanof  just  said  .?  " 

"  Yes,  he's  vexed  because  I  obey  you  and  not  him.  That 
is  true.  I  love  him,  but  I  mind  you.  He  is  dearer  to  me, 
you  are  nearer." 

Solomine  gently  caressed  her  hand. 

"It's  a  very  disagreeable  matter,"  he  said,  at  last.  "If 
Markelof  is  concern^  in  it,  he  is  ruined." 

Marianne  shuddered. 

"Ruined!" 

"  Yes.  He  never  does  anything  half  way  ;  he  won't  hide 
behind  others." 

"Ruined  \"  murmured  INIarianne,  again,  and  tears  rolled 
down  her  cheeks.  "Ah,  Solomine,  how  sorry  I  am  for 
him  !  But  why  should  he  not  be  successful .?  Why  must 
he  necessarily  be  ruined  .?  " 

"Because  in  enterprises  of  this  sort,  even  if  they  are  suc- 
cessful, those  in  advance  always  fall.  But  in  this  he  has 
just  tried,  it's  not  only  all  of  the  first  or  the  second  rank  who 
perish,  it's  the  tenth,  and  the  twentieth — " 

"  Then  we  shall  never  complete  it  I  "     • 

"What  you  are  dreaming  of?  never.  We  shall  never  see 
that  with  our  eyes,  our  bodily  eyes.  Oh,  with  those  of  the 
mind  its  very  different.  We  can  give  ourselves  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  it.     There's  nothing  to  prevent  that. " 

"  But  then,  Solomine,  tell  me — " 

"What.?" 

"  Why  do  you  walk  in  that  road  ?  " 

"Because  there  is  no  other.  To  speak  more  plainly, 
Markelof  and  I  have  the  same  end  in  view,  but  our  roads 
are  different." 

"Poor  INIarkelof,"  said  Marianne,  sorrowfully. 

Solomine  began  again  gently  to  caress  her  hand.  "Come, 
come,  there's  nothing  positive.  Let  us  wait  to  hear  what 
Paul  will  have  to  say.  In  our  work,  we  must  be  brave. 
The  English  have  a  saying,  '  Never  say  die. '     It's  a  good 


244  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

proverb,  better  than  the  Russian  one,  '  When  misfortune 
has  entered  throw  the  door  wide  open.'  Why  borrow 
trouble?" 

Solomine  arose. 

"And  the  place  you  were  going  to  get  for  me?"  asked 
Marianne  suddenly. 

Tears  were  still  ghstening  on  her  cheeks,  but  there  was  no 
sadness  in  her  eyes. 

Solomine  sat  down  again. 

"Are  you  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  away  from  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  but  I  want  to  be  ol*  use." 

"  Marianne,  you  are  very  useful  here.  Don't  leave  us  ; 
wait.  What  do  you  want  ?  "  he  asked  of  Tatiana,  who  was 
entering  the  room. 

"There's  a  female  asking  for  Neshdanof,"  answered  Tati- 
ana, laughing,  and  swinging  her  arms.  "  I  was  just  about 
to  say  to  her  that  there  was  no  one  of  that  name  here,  and 
never  had  been.     But  just  then  she — " 

"Who?" 

"This  female.  When  she  saw  that,  she  wrote  her  name 
on  this  piece  of  paper  and  told  me  to  show  it  to  you,  and 
then  you  would  let  her  in,  and  that  if  Neshdanof  was  not 
at  home,  she  could  wait." 

On  the  paper  was  written,  in  large  letters,  Mashurina. 

"Show  her  i^,"  said  Solomine.  "It  won't  discom- 
mode you,  will  it,  Marianne,  if  she  comes  in  here  ?  She  is 
one  of  us." 

"Not  at  all." 

In  a  few  moments  they  saw  Mashurina  crossing  the 
threshold,  dressed  exactly  as  we  have  seen  her  in  the  first 
chapter. 


XXXI. 

''  TSN'T  Neshdanof  at  home?"  she  asked.  Then 
JL  recognizing  Solomine  she  went  up  towards  him, 
and  held  out  her  hand,  "  How  are  you,  Solomine?"  She 
merely  glanced  at  Marianne. 

"  He'll  be  back  soon,"  said  Solomine.  "  But  let  me  ask 
who  told  you  ?  " 

"  Markelof.  Besides  there  are  two  or  three  persons  in 
the  town  who  know  already." 

"Really?" 

"Yes.  Some  one  has  blabbed.  It  seems  Neshdanof  has 
been  recognized." 

"That's  the  great  advantage  of  disguises,"  muttered 
Solomine.  "  Let  me  introduce  you  to  one  another,"  he 
added  aloud,  "Miss  Sinetsky,  I\Iiss  Mashurina.  Take  a 
chair." 

Mashurina  nodded  her  head  slightly,  and  sat  down. 

"I  have  a  letter  for  Neshdanof,  and  a  verbal  question 
for  you,  Solomine." 

"  What  is  it  ?  and  from  whom  ?  " 

"  From  some  one  you  know.     Is  all  ready  here  ?  " 

"  Nothing  is  ready." 

Mashurina  opened  her  little  eyes  as  wide  as  she  could. 

"Nothing?" 

"Nothing." 

"Absolutely  nothing?  " 

"Absolutely  nothing." 

"  That  is  my  answer  ?  " 

"Exactly." 

Mashurina  pensively  took  a  cigarette  from  her  pocket. 

"  Can  you  give  me  a  light  ?  " 

"  Here  is  a  match." 

Mashurina  lit  her  cigarette. 

245 


246  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  They  expected  something  very  different,"  she  resumed. 
"In  the  suburbs  it's  not  like  tliis.  After  all,  that's  your 
affair.  I  came  for  only  a  moment  to  see  Neshdanof  and 
give  him  the  letter." 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"A  long  distance." 

In  fact  she  was  starting  for  Geneva,  but  she  did  not 
want  to  tell  Solomine,  of  whom  she  did  not  feel  sure,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  outsider  who  was  there.  They  sent  Mash- 
urina  to  Geneva,  although  she  knew  only  a  few  words  of 
German,  to  carry  to  a  person  whom  she  did  not  know,  a 
piece  of  pasteboard  on  which  was  drawn  a  raisin,  with  two 
Imndred  and  seventy-nine  silver  rubles. 

"  And  Ostrodumof,  where  is  he  .?  with  you  ?  " 

"^No.  He's  not  far  off.  He  stopped  on  the  way.  But 
he'll  come  when  he's  wanted.    You  can  be  sure  of  Pimen." 

"  How  did  you  get  here  } " 

"  In  a  telega,  of  course  ;  give  me  another  match." 

Solomine  gave  her  a  burning  match. 

"Mr.  Solomine,"  whispered  a  voice  behind  the  door, 
"  come  here,  please." 

' '  Who's  there  .?     What  is  it .? " 

"Come,  please,"  the  voice  repeated  persuasively  and 
urgently.  "There  are  some  strange  workmen  with  some- 
thing to  say,  and  Paul  isn't  there." 

Solomine  arose  and  went  out. 

Mashurina  stared  so  at  Marianne  that  the  poor  girl  be- 
came quite  embarrassed. 

"Excuse  me,"  Mashurina  began  in  her  harsh,  jerky 
voice,  "  I'm  perfectly  plain,  and  I  don't  know  how  to  begin. 
Don't  be  angry,  and  don't  answer  unless  you  please.  Are 
you  the  young  lady  who  ran  away  from  the  Sipiagins?" 

Marianne,  though  somewhat  nonplussed,  answered  : 

"I  am." 

"With  Neshdanof?" 

"Why,  yes." 

"Give  me  your  hand,  please.  You  will  excuse  me. 
You  must  be  good,  since  he  loves  you." 

Marianne  pressed  Mashurina's  hand,  saying  : 

"You  know  him  well  ? " 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


247 


"  I  know  him.  I  used  to  see  him  at  Petersburg.  That's 
why  I  speak  to  you  about  him.  Markelof  also  told 
me—" 

"Ah,  INIarkelof?     Have  you  seen  him  recently?" 

"Quite  recently.     Just  now,  he's  not  at  home." 

"Where  has  he  gone  ?  " 

"  Where  he  was  ordered  to  go." 

Marianne  sighed. 

"Ah,  Madame,  Mashurina,  I'm  alarmed  about  him." 

"  In  the  first  place  I'm  not  '  madame  ;  '  all  these  graces 
have  to  be  thrown  aside.  And  then,  don't  say  you're 
alarmed.  You  shcjuld  not  be.  We  need  not  be  alarmed 
about  ourselves  or  about  others.  We  should  take  no 
thought  for  ourselves,  and  have  no  fears.  It's  all  useless, 
but  I  consider — I  consider  that  it  is  not  hard  for  me,  Mash- 
urina, to  talk  in  this  way.  I  am  ugly.  But  you,  you  are 
pretty,  so  it's  a  great  deal  harder  for  you."  Mashurina 
bowed  her  head  and  turned  away.  "  Markelof  said  to  me 
— he  knew  that  I  had  a  letter  for  Neshdanof — he  said  to 
me,  '  Don't  go  to  the  mill,  don't  carry  that  letter  ;  you'll 
be  a  kill-joy.  Leave  them  alone  !  They  are  both  happy 
over  there — so  much  the  better,  don't  disturb  them  ! '  I 
did  not  want  to  disturb  you — but  what  could  I  do  with  the 
letter.?" 

"You  must  give  it  to  him  without  fail,"  cried  Marianne. 
"But  what  a  kind  heart  IMarkelof  has!  Do  you  really 
think  he'll  get  killed  or  sent  to  Siberia }  " 

"Why,  what  difference  does  it  make.?  Don't  people 
come  back  from  Siberia .?  As  for  losing  his  life — some  per- 
son's lives  are  happy,  other's  bitter.  Markelofs  hasn't  been 
made  out  of  refined  sugar." 

Mashurina  again  gave  Marianne  an  intense,  scrutinizing 
glance. 

"It's  true,  you  are  a  beauty,"  she  exclaimed  at  last, 
"you  are  as  pretty  as  a  bird.  But  Alexis  doesn't  come 
back.  I've  a  great  mind  to  give  you  the  letter.  Why 
should  I  wait .?  " 

*'  I  will  give  it  to  him,  without  fail,  you  may  be  sure." 

IMashurina  rested  her  check  on  the  palm  of  her  hand,  and 
remained  silent  for  a  long  time. 


248  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"Tell  me — excuse  the  question — do  you  love  him  very 
much  ? " 

"Yes." 

Mashurina  shook  her  big  head. 

"  I  don't  need  to  ask  if  he  loves  you.  Well,  I'm  off  ;  I 
mustn't  be  late.  You'll  tell  him  that  I've  been  here — that 
I've  left  messages  for  him.  Tell  him  Mashurina  was  here. 
You  will  remember  my  name  ?  Yes,  Mashurina.  And  the 
letter — wait  a  moment,  where  did  I  put  it?  " 

Mashurina  arose  and  turned  away  as  if  to  feel  in  her  pock- 
ets, and  at  the  same  time  she  put  into  her  mouth  a  little 
paper  pellet,  which  she  swallowed. 

"Oh,  heavens  1  how  stupid  I  am.  Can  I  have  lost  it? 
I  have,  really.  Oh,  what  a  pity  !  If  any  one  were  to  find 
it — no,  I  really  haven't  it  with  me.  So  it's  settled  the  way 
Markelof  wanted  it." 

"Look  again,"  murmured  INIarianne. 

Mashurina  made  a  gesture  with  her  hand. 

"No,  what's  the  use.     It's  really  lost." 

Marianne  went  up  to  her. 

"Well,  kiss  me,  then." 

Mashurina  suddenly  put  her  arms  around  her,  and  pressed 
her  to  her  bosom  with  almost  a  man's  strength. 

"There's  no  one  else  I  should  have  done  that  for,"  said 
she,  in  a  low  voice  ;  "  it's  against  my  conscience  ;  it's  the 
only  time.  Tell  him  to  be  prudent  ;  and  you,  too,  take 
care.  This  place  will  soon  be  dangerous,  dangerous  for 
every  one.  Go,  both  of  you,  before  that  time  comes. 
Good-by  !  "  she  added  roughly,  in  a  loud  voice  ;  "  and  then 
tell  him — no,  don't  tell  him  anything  !  " 

Mashurina  went  out,  slamming  the  door  after  her,  and 
Marianne  was  left  standing  alone  and  pensive  in  the  middle 
of  her  room. 

"  What  does  it  all  mean  ?  "  she  said  at  last.  "  Why,  this 
woman  loves  him  more  than  I  do.  And  why  did  she  tell 
me  all  this  ?  And  why  did  Solomine  go  out  and  not  come 
back  ?  " 

She  began  to  walk  up  and  down  ;  a  strange  feeling,  made 
up  of  vexation,  grief,  and  stupor,  took  possession  of  her. 
Why  had  she  not  gone  with  Neshdanof  ?     It  was  Solomine 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


249 


who  had  dissuaded  her — but  he,  where  was  he  ?  What  is 
going  on  around  her  ?  It  was  evidently  out  of  pity  for 
Neshdanof,  that  INIashurina  had  not  given  her  that  danger- 
ous letter.  But  how  could  she  be  guilty  of  such  disobedi- 
ence ?  Did  she  want  to  display  her  generosity  ?  But  what 
right  had  she  ?  And  why  was  she,  Marianne,  so  touched  by 
it  ?    And  was  she  really  touched  ? 

An  ugly  woman  who  was  interested  in  a  young  man — - 
was  there,  after  all,  anything  so  surprising  in  that?  And 
why  should  Mashurina  suppose  that  T^Iarianne's  attachment 
for  Neshdanof  was  stronger  than  her  sense  of  duty  ?  Mari- 
anne did  not  at  all  desire  this  sacrifice.  And  what  could 
there  have  been  in  ttie  letter  .?  A  call  for  immediate  action  .? 
Well,  what  then  ? 

And  Markelof.''  He  is  in  danger — and  we,  what  are  we 
doing  ?  Markelof  spares  us  both  ;  he  gives  a  chance  to  be 
happy  together.      Is  this,  too,  generosity  or — contempt  ? 

So  we  have  only  left  that  odious  house  to  be  together  and 
coo  like  turtle-doves. 

Such  were  Marianne's  thoughts,  and  her  feeling  of  annoy- 
ance only  increased  at  every  moment.  Besides,  her  vanity 
was  wounded.  Why  should  they  all,  all,  keep  away  from 
her.?  This  stout  woman  had  called  her  "a  bird,"  a  "  pretty 
girl  " — why  not  a  doll,  in  so  many  words .?  And  why  had 
not  Neshdanof  gone  off  alone.?  Why  had  Paul  gone  with 
him .?  Did  he  need  some  one  to  take  care  of  him  ?  And 
Solomine,  what  were  his  real  views .?  There  was  nothing 
of  the  revolutionist  about  him.  Would  any  one  imagine  by 
any  chance  that  she  considered  it  all  a  game  ? 

These  were  the  thoughts  that  were  chasing  one  another 
confusedly  in  Marianne's  brain.  With  tightly  closed  lips, 
and  her  arms  folded,  like  a  man,  she  sat  down  by  the  win- 
dow and  was  again  still,  without  even  leaning  against  the 
back  of  her  chair  ;  she  was  all  tense,  alert,  ready  to  spring. 
She  did  not  want  to  go  and  work  with  Tatiana,  she  wanted 
to  do  only  one  thing — wait.  And  she  waited  with  a  sort  of 
raging  obstinacy. 

At  times  her  feelings  seemed  to  her  strange  and  incom- 
prehensible— but  so  much  the  worse  !  Once  it  even  passed 
through  her  head  that  possibly  jealousy  was  the  cause  of  it 


250 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


all.  But  when  slic  remembered  poor  Mashurina's  face,  she 
shrugged  her  shoulders  and  made  a  gesture  with  her  hand, 
as  if  she  was  pushing  something  away,  not  in  fact,  but  by 
a  corresponding  mental  action. 

INIarianne  had  a  long  time  to  wait.  At  last  she  heard  the 
steps  of  two  persons  coming  up  the  stairs.  She  turned  her 
eyes  to  the  door  ;  the  steps  drew  near.  The  door  opened, 
and  Neshdanof,  supported  by  Paul's  arm,  appeared  on  the 
threshold. 

He  was  deadly  pale  and  bare-headed  ;  his  disheveled  hair 
was  hanging  in  damp  locks  over  his  forehead  ;  his  eyes 
looked  straight  before  him  without  seeing  anything.  Paul 
carried  him  across  the  room  (Neshdanofs  limp,  inert,  totter- 
ing legs  were  dragging  behind  him)  and  sat  him  down  on 
a  sofa. 

Marianne  sprang  from  her  chair. 

' '  What  is  it  ?     What  has  happened  .?     Is  he  sick  ?  " 

But  Paul,  after  he  put  Neshdanof  down,  answered  over 
his  shoulder  with  a  smile, 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  it  will  pass  off — it's  only  that  he's 
not  used  to  it." 

"But  what  is  it  ?  "  insisted  Marianne. 

"He's  a  little  tipsy;  he  drank  on  an  empty  stomach  ; 
that's  all." 

Marianne  bent  over  Neshdanof.  He  was  half  lying  down 
on  the  sofa  ;  his  head  was  bent  forward  over  his  chest,  his 
eyes  were  wandering,  his  breath  was  reeking  with  brandy  j 
he  was  drunk. 

"Alexis!"  she  exclaimed,  involuntarily.  He  managed 
to  raise  his  heavy  eyelids  and  tried  to  smile. 

"Ah,  Marianne,"  he  stammered,  "  you  always  said  sim — 
sim — simplified  ;  now  I'm  simplified.  Since  the  people  are 
always  drunk — ^you  understand — " 

He  stopped,  then  murmured  a  few  more  unintelligible 
words,  closed  his  eyes  and  fell  asleep.  Paul  arranged  him 
comfortably  on  the  sofa. 

"  Don't  distress  yourself,  INIiss  Marianne,"  he  repeated, 
"  he'll  sleep  for  a  couple  of  hours,  and  then  he'll  be  as  good 
as  new." 

Marianne  wanted  to  ask  how  it  happened,  but  her  ques- 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


2qi 


tion  would  have  detained  Paul,  and  she  wanted  to  be  alone, 
or  rather  she  did  not  want  Paul  to  see  him  in  this  plight  be- 
fore her.  She  went  off  toward  the  window,  Paul,  who  per- 
ceived it  all  in  a  moment,  carefully  wrapped  up  Neshdanofs 
feet  in  the  tails  of  his  caftan,  put  a  little  pillow  under  his 
head,  said  once  more,  "  It's  nothing,"  and  crept  out  of  the 
room  on  tip-toe. 

Marianne  went  back.  Neshdanofs  head  had  sunk  into 
the  pillow  ;  there  was  a  steady  tension  on  his  face,  which 
was  as  pale  as  that  of  a  very  sick  man. 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?"  she  thought. 


XXXII. 

1"^HIS  is  the  way  it  happened. 
When   he   sat  down  in  the  telega  by  the  side  of 
Paul,  Neshdanof   suddenly  became   very  much    excited. 
They  had  hardly  got  out  from  the  court-yard  into  the  road, 

and  started  in  the  direction  of  T ,  when  he  began  to 

call  out  and  stop  the  passing  peasants,  and  to  address  them 
with  remarks  as  brief  as  they  were  incoherent. 

"  Hulloh  !  "  he  shouted,  ''  are  you  asleep  ?  Get  up  !  the 
hour  has  come.  Down  with  taxation  ;  down  with  the  pro- 
prietors !  " 

Some  of  the  peasants  stared  at  him  with  surprise,  others 
went  on  their  way  without  paying  any  attention  to  what  he 
said  ;  they  thought  he  was  drunk.  One  of  them,  when  he 
reached  home,  said  he  had  met  a  Frenchman  lisping  some- 
thing in  his  jargon,  he  didn't  know  what. 

Neshdanof  was  quite  able  to  understand  how  ridiculous 
and  even  stupid  his  conduct  was  ;  but  gradually  he  worked 
himself  up  into  such  a  state  that  he  lost  the  power  of  dis- 
tinguishing what  was  reasonable  from  what  was  absurd. 

Paul  did  his  best  to  calm  him,  saying,  "  Come,  come  ; 
you  can't  go  on  like  that,"  and  tried  to  make  it  clear  to 
him  that  they  would  soon  arrive  at  the  first  large  village  on 

the  other  side  of  the  boundary  line  of  the  district  of  T , 

and  that  then  they  could  make  inquiries.  But  Neshdanof 
paid  no  attention,  and  meanwhile  his  face  wore  an  expres- 
sion of  almost  desperate  sadness. 

Their  horse  was  a  sturdy,  round  little  beast,  with  the 
mane  trimmed  close  upon  its  arched  neck.  It  kept  its 
strong  little  legs  in  active  motion,  and  pulled  perpetually 
on  the  reins,  as  if  it  thought  it  was  driven  by  some  one  who 
was  in  a  great  hurry. 

After  they  had  reached  the  above-mentioned  village, 
Neshdanof  saw  eight  peasants  standing  near  the  road  be- 

252 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  253 

fore  the  door  of  an  empty  barn.  He  sprang  at  once  from 
the  telega,  ran  up  to  them,  and  for  five  minutes  he  held 
forth  to  them  with  a  speech  which  was  continually  inter- 
rupted by  sudden  cries  accompanied  by  wild  gestures. 

The  words,  "  Liberty  !  Forward  !  Shoulder  to  shoul- 
der !  "  shouted  in  a  high,  husky  voice,  rose  above  a  num- 
ber of  others  which  could  not  be  clearly  made  out. 

The  peasants  Avho  had  assembled  before  the  barn  to  see 
about  putting  some  wheat  into  it,  even  if  only  a  sample  (it 
was  the  communal  granary,  hence  empty),  stared  at  Nesh- 
danof  and  seemed  to  listen  to  him  very  attentively  ;  but, 
probably,  they  did  ngt  understand  very  much,  for  when  at 
last  he  turned  and  ran  back  with  a  parting  cry  of  "  Lib- 
erty !  "  one  of  them,  the  cleverest  of  all,  nodded  his  head 
wisely  and  said,  "  How  severe  he  is  !  "  and  another  added, 
"  He  must  be  one  of  the  leaders."  To  which  the  clever 
peasant  replied,  "  Certainly,  or  else  he  wouldn't  be  rasping 
his  throat  in  that  way.  We  must  look  out  for  our  money  ; 
they'll  be  taking  it  out  of  us." 

Neshdanof,  when  he  got  into  the  telega  again  and  sat 
down  by  Paul,  said  to  himself,  "  Good  God,  what  stuff  and 
nonsense  !  But  after  all  no  one  knows  exactly  how  to 
arouse  the  people  ;  perhaps  that's  the  way.  There's  no 
time  to  think  about  that.  So  much  the  worse.  That's 
not  what  was  wanted  ;  but  so  much  the  worse  still.  We 
must  go  on." 

They  drove  into  the  village  street.  In  the  middle  of  it, 
just  before  the  tavern  door,  there  was  assembled  quite  a 
large  number  of  peasants.  Paul  tried  to  restrain  Neshda- 
nof, but  he  had  jumped  quickly  from  the  telega,  and  cry- 
ing, "Brothers  !  "  he  had  forced  his  way  into  the  crowd. 

They  made  room  for  him,  and  Neshdanof  began  a  new 
speech,  without  looking  at  any  one,  in  a  voice  both  fierce 
and  lachrymose. 

But  the  consequences  were  very  different  from  those  of 
his  speech  before  the  barn.  A  huge  fellow,  with  a  smooth 
but  villainous  face,  wearing  a  short,  greasy,  half  pelisse, 
high  boots,  and  a  sheep-skin  cap,  walked  up  to  Neshdanof, 
and  clapped  him  heavily  on  the  shoulder. 

"  You  are  right  !     You  are  a  good  fellow  !  "  he  roared, 


2  54  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

with  a  voice  of  thunder  ;  "  but  hold  on,  don't  you  know  that 
talking's  dry  work  ?  Come  this  way,  we  can  have  our  talk 
out  a  great  deal  better." 

He  led  Neshdanof  into  the  tavern  ;  the  whole  crowd  fol- 
lowed tumultuously. 

"  Mikheitch,"  shouted  the  big  fellow,  "  ten  kopecks* 
worth  of  brandy,  you  know  my  drink  !  I'm  treating  a 
friend.  The  devil  knows  where  he  comes  from  or  whom 
he  belongs  to,  but  he's  pitching  into  the  noblemen.  Drink  !  " 
he  said  to  Neshdanof,  offering  him  a  large,  heavy,  full 
glass,  all  damp  on  the  outside,  as  if  with  perspiration. 
"  Drink,  for  you  mean  well  by  us  !  " 

"  Drink  !  "  roared  the  crowd. 

Neshdanof  seized  the  glass — he  was  almost  choking,  and 
cried  : 

"  To  your  health,  boys  !  " 

And  he  drained  it  to  the  last  drop. 

Ugh  !  he  swallowed  it  with  the  resolution  of  despair,  as 
he  would  have  marched  up  to  a  battery  or  to  a  line  of  bayo- 
nets. But,  heavens,  what  has  happened  ?  Something  struck 
him  down  his  back  and  legs,  burned  his  throat,  and  chest, 
and  stomach,  and  brought  tears  to  his  eyes — a  qualm  of 
nausea,  which  he  could  hardly  conquer,  ran  over  his  whole 
body.  He  shouted  as  loud  as  he  could  the  first  thing  that 
came  into  his  head,  to  dull  that  terrible  feeling.  Every- 
thing in  the  dingy  tavern  became  hot,  choking,  stifling 
And  how  many  people  there  were  ! 

He  began  to  talk,  to  talk  at  great  length,  and  to  shout 
with  wild  fury,  and  to  clasp  big  horny  hands,  and  kiss  sticky 
beards.  The  big,  hulking  fellow  hugged  him  and  nearly 
broke  his  ribs.  He  was  a  real  monster.  "  I'll  tear  open  the 
throat,"  he  roared,  "  of  the  first  man  who  does  any  harm  to 
our  brothers.  I'll  give  him  a  lick  on  the  top  of  the  head. 
You'll  hear  him  yell.  I  know  how  to  do  it.  I've  been  a 
butcher,  I  have.     I  know  that  business." 

With  these  words  he  held  out  his  huge,  red  fist,  covered 
with  patches  of  freckles,  and  suddenly,  good  Lord  !  a  voice 
shouted  again,  "  Drink  !  "  and  Neshdanof  swallowed  another 
draught  of  the  vile  poison. 

But  this  time  the  effect  was  terrible.   It  was  as  if  iron 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  '  255 

hooks  were  tearing  him  inside,  his  head  began  to  spin,  green 
circles  were  turning  before  his  eyes. 

There  was  a  ringing  in  his  ears — a  roar.  Horror — a  third 
glass  !  Is  it  possible  that  he  swallowed  it  ?  Red  noses  flew 
toward  him  ;  dusty  heads  of  hair,  sunburned  necks,  fur- 
rowed, scarred  throats.  Hairy  hands  took  hold  of  him. 
"  Come,  finish  your  speech  !  "  shouted  wild  voices.  "  Come, 
speak  !  Day  before  yesterday  a  stranger,  like  you,  told  us 
lots  of  things.    Go  on  !  you  four-legged  son  of  a  sea  cook  !  " 

The  earth  waved  beneath  Neshdanof's  feet.  His  voice 
sounded  strange  to  him,  as  if  some  one  else  were  speaking. 
Could  he  be  dead  ? 

Suddenly  the  fresli  air  struck  his  face  ;  there  was  more 
hustling,  more  red  faces  glared  at  him,  more  of  the  stench 
of  brandy,  of  sheepskin,  of  leather,  and  tar.  He  found 
himself  sitting  in  the  telega  by  the  side  of  Paul.  His  first 
thought  was  to  get  out,  shouting  : 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  Stop  !  I  haven't  had  a  chance 
to  explain  anything." 

Then  he  added,  addressing  Paul : 

"  And  you  yourself,  you  odd  fish,  you  sly  dog,  what  are 
your  opinions  ? " 

And  Paul  answered,  "  It  would  be  perfect,  if  there  were 
no  masters  and  if  the  whole  world  belonged  to  us,  of  course. 
But,  up  to  the  present  time,  there  has  been  no  ukase  order- 
ing that."  And,  while  he  was  talking,  he  quietly  turned 
the  telega  round  ;  suddenly  he  shook  the  reins  over  the 
horse's  back,  and  they  started  away  from  the  crowd  and 
uproar  toward  the  mill. 

Neshdanof  was  half  asleep  ;  his  body  fell  to  the  right 
and  to  the  left.  The  wind  blew  pleasantly  on  his  face  and 
dispelled  his  gloomy  thoughts. 

Only  one  thing  pained  him  :  that  he  had  not  expounded- 
his  ideas — but  again  the  wind  caressed  his  burning  cheek. 

Then,  the  appearance  of  Marianne — a  momentary  but 
scorching  sensation  of  shame — and  then  a  deadly  stupor. 

Paul  told  Solomine  the  whole  story.  He  even  confessed 
that  he  had  not  kept  Neshdanof  from  drinking — for  it  was 
the  only  way  he  could  get  out  of  the  tavern.  The  peasants 
would  not  have  let  him  go. 


256  VIRGIN-  SOIL. 

"  When  he  was  overcome  by  the  brandy,  I  said  to  the 
peasants,  with  a  great  many  bows,  *  Come,  my  good  fellows, 
let  the  boy  go  ;  see  how  young  he  is  ! '  They  let  him  go  ; 
but  they  asked  for  half  a  ruble  for  ransom,  and  I  gave  it  to 
them." 

"  That  was  right,"  said  Solomine. 

Neshdanof  was  sleeping,  and  Marianne  was  sitting  by 
the  window  looking  at  the  garden-walk. 

Singularly  enough,  the  evil  thoughts  and  feelings  which 
had  been  agitating  her  before  Neshdanof 's  arrival  had  sud- 
denly left  her.  Neshdanof  did  not  inspire  her  with  repul- 
sion or  disgust  ;  she  only  pitied  him. 

She  knew  perfectly  well  that  he  was  not  dissipated  or  a 
drunkard  ;  and  she  was  wondering  what  friendly  speech 
she  could  make  to  him  when  he  would  wake  up,  to  save 
him  from  shame  and  grief. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  I  must  manage  to  get  him 
to  tell  me  how  it  happened." 

She  was  not  agitated,  but  she  was  sad,  very  sad.  It 
seemed  to  herself  that  she  had  breathed  in  a  puff  of  the 
real  atmosphere  that  surrounded  the  unknown  world  into 
which  she  yearned  to  plunge,  and  this  grossness,  these  dark 
shadows  made  her  tremble.  To  what  Moloch  was  she 
about  to  sacrifice  herself  ? 

But  no,  that  was  impossible  ;  this  was  a  mere  incident, 
everything  would  soon  be  as  before.  It  was  a  passing  im- 
pression, that  had  struck  her  with  such  force  simply  because 
it  was  so  unexpected. 

Marianne  arose  and  walked  to  the  sofa  on  which  Nesh- 
danof was  lying,  and  with  her  handkerchief  she  wiped  his 
pale  forehead,  which  was  contracted  as  if  with  pain  even 
while  he  was  sleeping,  and  she  pushed  back  the  young 
man's  hair. 

She  began  to  pity  him  as  a  mother  pities  a  sick  child. 
But  he  was  a  painful  sight,  and  she  went  back  quietly  to 
her  own  room,  leaving  the  door  between  open. 

She  did  not  take  up  any  work  to  occupy  her  hands,  she 
sat  down  and  fell  into  the  same  revery.  She  felt  the  time 
creep  by,  moment  by  moment,  and  this  gave  her  pleasure, 
and  her  heart  was  beating  as  if  she  expected  something. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  257 

"Where  was  Solomine  all  this  time  ? 

The  door  creaked  softly  and  Tatiana  came  in. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  asked  Marianne,  with  an  irritated 
start. 

"  Marianne,"  said  Tatiana,  in  a  low  voice,  "  see  here  ; 
don't  distress  yourself  about  this  !  it  might  happen  to  any- 
body, and  besides  it's  lucky  that  he — " 

"  I'm  not  distressing  myself  at  all,  Tatiana.  Neshdanof 
is  not  very  well ;  there's  nothing  very  serious." 

"  Oh,  so  much  the  better  !  That's  what  I  said  to  myself  ; 
Marianne  doesn't  come,  what  can  be  the  matter  ?  But  at  the 
same  time  I  shouldn't  have  come,  because  my  rule  in  these 
cases  is  always  '  mind  your  own  business  ' — only  there  is  a 
man  just  come  to  the  mill,  I  don't  know  who  he  is.  He's 
sort  of  lame,  very  short,  and  he  insists  on  seeing  Neshdanof. 
What  does  it  mean  ?  This  morning  that  woman — now  this 
lame  fellow  !  And  when  I  said  that  Neshdanof  was  not 
here,  he  asked  for  Solomine.  '  I  must  see  some  one,'  he 
says,  'because  I've  come  on  very  serious  business.'  We 
tried  to  send  him  off,  like  that  woman,  by  telling  him  that 
Solomine  was  not  here,  that  he'd  gone  out  ;  but  the  fellow 
said,  '  I  shan't  go  ;  I'll  stay  till  night  if  need  be.'  And  he's 
walking  up  and  down  the  courtyard.  There,  come  out 
into  the  hall ;  you  can  look  out  of  the  window  and  see  if  you 
know  him." 

Marianne  went  out  with  Tatiana  ;  as  she  passed  by  Nesh- 
danof she  noticed  once  more  the  painful  contraction  of  his 
brow,  which  she  once  more  wiped  with  her  handkerchief. 

Through  the  dust  upon  the  narrow  window  she  saw  the 
visitor  ;    it  was  no  one  she  knew. 

But  at  that  moment  Solomine  came  around  from  behind 
the  house."  The  little  lame  man  went  quickly  up  to  him, 
holding  out  his  hand.  Solomine  took  it.  Evidently  he 
knew  him.     Then  they  both  disappeared. 

But  steps  could  be  heard  upon  the  staircase.  They  were 
com.ing  up. 

Marianne  went  back  quickly  to  her  room,  and  stopped 
when  she  got  fairly  into  it,  breathing  with  difficulty.     She 
was  afraid — of  what  ?     She  did  not  know. 
Solomine  thrust  his  head  in  at  the  door. 

17 


2 


-S  VIRGIN  SOIL. 


"  Marianne,  let  me  come  in.  I  bring  some  one  whom  it  is 
absolutely  necessary  that  you  should  see." 

Marianne  merely  nodded  assent,  as  she  saw,  following 
Solomine,  Pakline  come  in. 


XXXIII. 


a 


I'M  a  friend  of  your  husband,"  said  Pakline,  making 
Marianne  a  very  deep  bow  as  if  he  were  trying  to 
hide  his  face  from  her,  agitated  as  it  was  by  anxiety  and 
fear,  "  and  I'm  a  friend  of  Solomine.  Neshdanof  is  asleep, 
he's  not  very  well,  I  understand.  I'm  sorry  to  say  I  bring 
bad  news,  part  of  •which  I've  had  time  to  tell  Solomine, 
and  in  consequence  certain  decisive  measures  will  have  to 
be  taken!" 

Pakline's  voice  kept  failing  him,  like  that  of  a  man  whose 
mouth  is  dry  with  thirst. 

The  news  he  brought  was  indeed  bad.  Markelof  had 
been  captured  by  the  peasants  and  carried  to  the  town. 
Goloushkine's  clerk  had  informed  upon  his  master,  who  had 
been  arrested.  Goloushkine,  in  his  turn,  was  giving  all 
the  information  he  could,  and  telling  everything  he  knew  ; 
he  proposed  to  join  the  Greek  Church,  and  had  given  the 
Gymnasium  a  portrait  of  Philaretes,  the  Metropohtan  ;  he 
had  already  sent  five  thousand  rubles  to  be  divided 
among  the  invalid  soldiers.  There  could  be  no  doubt  that 
he  had  told  about  Neshdanof.  At  any  moment  the  pohce 
might  make  a  descent  upon  the  mill. 

Solomine  too  was  in  danger. 

"  As  for  me,"  added  Pakline,  "  only  one  thing  surprises 
me,  and  that  is,  that  I  am  allowed  to  go  about  freely  ;  it  is 
true  that  I  never  took  any  serious  interest  in  politics,  and 
that  I  never  attended  a  meeting.  In  a  word,  I  have  taken 
advantage  of  the  forgetfulness  or  the  carelessness  of  the  po- 
lice to  come  and  warn  you,  and  to  talk  over  what  is  to  be 
done  to — to  avoid  complications." 

Marianne  listened  to  all  Pakline  had  to  say.  She  was 
not  frightened  ;  she  was  even  very  calm.  But  Pakline  was 
right ;  something  must  be  done.  The  first  thing  she  did 
was  to  look  at  Solomine, 

25g 


26o  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

He,  too,  seemed  composed,  save  that  the  muscles  of 
his  hps  quivered  imperceptibly  ;  he  no  longer  smiled  as 
usual. 

Solomine  understood  the  meaning  of  Marianne's  glance  ; 
she  was  waiting  for  what  he  should  say,  in  order  to  follow 
his  advice. 

"  It's  a  very  ticklish  matter,"  he  began.  "  Neshdanof 
would  do  well,  I  think,  to  go  off  for  a  time.  But  by  the 
way,  Mr.  Pakline,  how  did  you  know  that  he  was  here  ? " 

Pakline  waved  his  hand. 

"  It's  some  one  who  met  him  on  one  of  his  excursions  one 
day  when  he  was  making  speeches  in  the  neighborhood. 
This  person  follows  him,  not  with  any  evil  intention,  I 
should  say  ;  he's  one  of  us.  But  I  really  think,"  he  went 
on,  turning  to  Marianne,  **  that  our  friend  Neshdanof  has 
been  very,  very  imprudent." 

"  Reproaches  are  of  no  use  now,"  said  Solomine  ;  "  I'm 
sorry  we  can't  settle  on  anything  at  once  ;  but  by  to- 
morrow he  will  be  better,  and  the  police  are  not  so  active 
as  you  imagine.  And  you  too,  Marianne,  you  must  go 
with  him." 

"  Of  course,"  answered  Marianne,  in  a  low  but  firm 
voice. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Solomine  ;  "  we  must  reflect  and  choose 
the  place  and  the  means." 

"  Let  me  suggest  to  you,"  began  Pakline,  "  an  idea 
which  occurred  to  me  as  I  was  driving  here.  Let  me  first 
tell  you,  though,  that  I  sent  my  coachman  back  when  I 
Avas  a  verst  from  the  mill." 

"  What  is  your  idea  ?  "  asked  Solomine. 

"  It's  this  :  you'll  give  me  some  horses,  and  I'll  go  at 
once  to  the  Sipiagins." 

"  To  the  Sipiagins  !  "  repeated  Marianne.    "  Why  there  ?  " 

"  You'll  see." 

"  But  do  you  know  them  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all ;  but  listen.  Consider  my  idea  carefully.  It 
seems  to  me  like  an  inspiration  of  genius.  Markelof  is 
Sipiagin's  brother-in-law,  his  wife's  brother,  isn't  he  ?  Well, 
don't  you  think  he  will  do  something  to  save  him  and 
Neshdanof  ?    Granting  that  Sipiagin  is  angry  with  him,  that 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  261 

does  not  alter  the  fact  that  Neshdanof  has  become  a  rela- 
tion of  his  by  marrying  you.  And  the  danger  hanging 
over  our  friend —  " 

"  I'm  not  married,"  said  Marianne. 

Pakline  started  with  surprise. 

"  What !  all  this  time  you  haven't  yet  ?  Pshaw  !  "  he 
added,  "  it  will  do  no  harm  to  lie  a  little  ;  at  any  rate,  you 
will  get  married.  But  seriously,  you  can't  find  anything 
better  than  my  plan.  You  will  notice  that  up  to  the  pres- 
ent time  Sipiagin  has  not  made  any  search  for  you.  That 
shows  that  he  has  a  certain  generosity — I  notice  the  word 
displeases  you — a  certain  pretense  of  generosity.  Why  not 
take  advantage  of  it  under  present  circumstances  ?  Tell 
me. 

Marianne  raised  her  head  and  ran  her  hand  through  her 
hair. 

"  You  can  do  anything  you  please  for  Markelof,  Mr. 
Pakline,  or  for  yourself  ;  but  neither  Alexis  nor  I  can 
endure  Mr.  Sipiagin's  interference  or  protection.  We  have 
not  run  away  from  his  house  to  go  back  and  knock  at  his 
door  like  beggars.  We  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
generosity  or  the  pretense  of  generosity  of  Mr.  Sipiagin 
or  his  wife." 

"  Those  are  very  commendable  sentiments,"  answered 
Pakline,  who  thought  to  himself,  That's  rather  a  damper, — 
"  although,  on  the  other  hand,  if  you  consider — at  any  rate 
I'm  ready  to  do  as  you  say.  I  shall  try  to  help  only 
Markelof,  our  good  Markelof.  But  let  me  say,  neverthe- 
less, that  he  is  related  to  Sipiagin  only  through  his  wife, 
whereas  you — " 

"  Mr.  Pakline,  I  beg  of  you." 

"  Certainly  ! — certainly  ! — but  I  can't  help  feeling  sorry, 
for  Sipiagin  has  so  much  influence." 

"  And  aren't  you  uneasy  about  yourself  ? "  asked  Solo- 
mine. 

Pakline  bridled  up. 

"  In  a  time  like  the  present,  one  cannot  think  of  one's 
self,"  he  answered  proudly. 

In  fact  it  was  about  himself  that  he  was  thinking  in  all 
his  projects. 


262  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Poor,  feeble,  little  creature  'that  he  was,  he  wanted  to 
get  the  start  of  the  others,  like  the  hare  in  the  fable. 

In  exchange  for  the  services  he  had  rendered  him,  Sipia- 
gin  might,  in  case  of  trouble,  say  a  word  in  his  favor. 
For,  in  truth,  whatever  he  might  say,  Pakline  felt  that  he 
was  compromised,  he  had  listened — and  he  had  even 
spoken. 

"  Your  plan,"  said  Solomine  at  last,  "  doesn't  seem  to  be 
a  bad  one,  although,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  think  there  is  very 
little  chance  of  its  succeeding.  At  any  rate,  one  can  but 
try.     Whatever  happens,  you  can't  do  any  harm." 

"  Exactly  !  Taking  the  most  unfavorable  view,  suppose 
they  kick  me  out  of  the  house — where  is  the  harm  1 " 

"  Yes,  that  would  do  no  harm." 

"  Thank  you  !  "  thought  Pakline.  Solomine  went  on, 
"What  time  is  it  ?  Past  four  ?  There's  no  time  to  lose. 
You  shall  have  forces  at  once.     Paul !  " 

But  instead  of  Paul,  it  was  Neshdanof  who  came  to  the 
door.  He  could  not  stand  straight,  and  he  was  obliged  to 
hold  one  of  the  door-posts  ;  his  lips  were  opened  feebly, 
and  he  was  gazing  anxiously  forward.  He  did  not  under- 
stand what  was  going  on. 

Pakline  first  went  up  to  him. 

"  Alexis,"  he  said,  "  you  remember  me  ?  " 

Neshdanof  looked  at  him,  half  shutting  his  eyes. 

"  Pakline  ? "  he  said  at  last. 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  it  is  I.     You  are  not  well  ?  " 

"  No — I'm  not  very  well.  But — what  are  you  doing 
here  ? " 

"I?" 

But  at  that  moment  Marianne  lightly  touched  Pakline's 
elbow.  He  turned  round  and  saw  that  she  was  making 
signs.     "  Oh,  yes,"  he  murmured,  "  that's  true." 

"I've  come,  Alexis,"  he  resumed  aloud,  "on  important 
business,  and  I'm  oif  at  once  to  continue  my  journey. 
Solomine  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  and  Marianne,  Miss 
Marianne.  It's  something  that  concerns  us  all,  that  is  to 
say — no,  no,"  he  added  noticing  Marianne's  sign  and  glance, 
"  it's  something  about  Markelof,  our  friend  Markelof  alone. 
But  good-by,  time  is  precious,  good-by,  my  friend.  We  shall 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  263 

meet  soon.  Mr.  Solomine,  will  you  be  good  enough  to 
come  with  me  to  see  about  the  horses  ? " 

"  Very  well,  Marianne.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  to  be 
courageous,  but  I  see  it  ain't  necessary.  You  are  of  the 
right  stamp." 

"  Oh,  yes,  oh,  yes  !  "  added  Pakline  approvingly.  "  You're 
like  a  Roman  matron  of  the  time  of  Cato,  of  Cato  of 
Utica  !     But  come  along,  Mr.  Solomine,  come  along !  " 

*'  You  have  plenty  of  time,"  said  Solomine  with  an  in- 
different smile. 

Neshdanof  shrunk  to  one  side  to  let  them  pass  by,  but 
it  was  evident  thaj  he  did  not  understand  anything  that 
was  said.  Then  he  stepped  forward  a  couple  of  paces 
and  dropped  gently  into  a  chair,  in  front  of  Marianne. 

"  Alexis,"  she  said,  "  everything  has  been  found  out  ; 
Markelof  has  been  seized  by  the  peasants,  whom  he  was 
trying  to  incite  to  revolution  ;  he  has  been  put  in  the  jail 
at  S ,  as  well  as  that  merchant  you  dined  with  ;  prob- 
ably the  police  will  be  here  very  soon,  after  us.  Pakline 
has  gone  to  the  Sipiagins." 

"  What  for  ?  "  muttered  Neshdanof  in  a  barely  audible 
voice. 

But  his  eyes  became  brighter,  his  face  wore  again  its 
usual  expression.  His  intoxication  had  entirely  left 
him. 

"  To  try  to  secure  his  protection." 

Neshdanof  straightened  himself  up. 

"  For  us  ? " 

"  No,  for  Markelof.  He  wanted  to  speak  in  our  behalf 
too,  but  I  forbade  him.     Was  I  right,  Alexis  ? " 

"  Right  ?  "  said  Alexis,  holding  out  both  hands  without 
rising  from  his  chair.  "  Right  ?  "  he  repeated,  drawing 
her  toward  him,  and  pressing  his  face  against  her  he  burst 
into  tears. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  ?  "  cried  Marianne. 

As  she  had  done  that  other  time  when  he  fell  at  her  feet, 
overcome,  speechless  with  a  sudden  gust  of  passion,  she 
placed  both  hands  on  the  quivering  head  of  the  young 
man.  But  her  present  feeling  was  very  different  from  what 
she  had  then  felt.     Then,  she  resigned  herself  to  him,  she 


2  64  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

submitted  and  awaited  his  decision  ;  now,  she  pitied  him 
and  thought  only  of  cahiiing  him. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  Why  do  you 
weep  ?  Is  it  because  you  came  home  in  such  a  state  ?  No, 
it  can't  be  that.  Is  it  because  you  are  sorry  for  Markelof, 
or  that  you  are  afraid  for  me  and  for  yourself  ?  Do  you 
regret  our  shattered  hopes  ?  But  you  couldn't  expect 
everything  to  go  as  if  it  had  been  oiled." 

Neshdanof  raised  his  head  quickly. 

"  No,  Marianne,"  he  said,  swallowing  his  sobs,  "  I'm  not 
afraid  for  you,  nor  for  myself — but,  to  tell  the  truth — I  am 
sorry  for — -" 

"  For  whom  ? " 

"  For  you,  Marianne  ;  you,  who  have  united  your  fate 
with  that  of  a  man  who  was  not  worthy  of  you." 

"  How  so  ?  " 

"  Well,  because,  for  instance,  at  a  time  like  this,  that 
man  can  be  crying." 

"  It's  not  you  who  are  crying  ;  it's  your  nerves." 

''  My  nerves  and  I  are  one.  Come,  Marianne,  look  me 
in  the  eye  ;  can  you  honestly  say  that  you  don't  regret  ? " 

"  What  ? " 

"  Having  run  off  with  me  ? " 

"  No." 
*  "  And  you  would  do  it  again  ?  Anywhere  ?  " 
.   "  Yes  !  " 

"  Really,  Marianne — you  would  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  I  gave  you  my  hand,  and  so  long  as  you  are  he 
whom  I  loved,  I  shall  not  withdraw  it." 

Neshdanof  was  still  sitting  on  the  chair  ;  Marianne  was 
standing  in  front  of  him.  He  had  both  hands  around  her 
waist  and  she  had  placed  hers  upon  his  shoulders. 

"  Yes — no —  "  thought  Neshdanof,  "  and  yet  before, 
when  I  held  her  in  my  arms,  as  I  do  now,  her  body  at  least 
was  motionless  ;  whereas  now  I  notice  that  she  gently, 
involuntarily,  perhaps,  draws  back  from  me." 

He  opened  his  arms,  and  in  fact  Marianne  fell  back  a 
barely  imperceptible  degree. 

"  Listen,"  he  said  aloud  ;  "  if  we  must  take  to  flight  be- 
fore the  police  finds  us,  I  think  it  would  be  well  if  we 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  265 

were  to  be  married  first.     Perhaps  we  shan't  be  able  to 
find  another  priest  as  accommodating  as  Zossime. 
"  I'm  ready,"  said  Marianne." 
Neshdanof  looked  at  her  attentively. 
"  Roman  maiden  !  "  he  said  with  a  bitter  smile.     "  The 
sense  of  duty  !  " 

Marianne  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
"  We  must  speak  to  Solomine  about  it." 
"  Ah,    yes — to    Solomine — "    said    Neshdanof     slowly. 
"  But  he  tod,  I  suppose,  is  in  danger  from  the  police.     It 
seems  to  me  that  he  plays  a  more  important  part  than  I, 
and  that  he  knows  a  great  deal  more  about  it." 

"  I  don't  know, "'answered  Marianne.  "  He  never  talks 
about  himself." 

"Unlike  me,"  thought  Neshdanof;  "that's  what  she 
means.  Solomine,"  he  added  after  a  long  silence  ;  "  you 
see,  Marianne,  I  should  not  have  complained  if  the  man  to 
whom  you  had  given  yourself  for  life  had  been  a  Solomine, 
or  if  it  had  been  Solomine  himself." 

Marianne  in  her  turn  looked  at  Neshdanof  attentively. 
"  You  have  no  right  to  say  that,"  she  said  finally. 
"  No  right  ?     How  am  I  to  understand  that  ?     Do  you 
mean  that  you  love  me,  or  that,  in  general,  the  question 
should  not  be  discussed  ?  " 

"  You  had  no  right,"  repeated  Marianne. 
Neshdanof  lowered  his  head. 
"  Marianne  !  "  he  said  with  a  half-choking  voice. 
"  What  ? " 

"  If  now — if  I  were  to  ask  you — you  know  ?  no,  I  shall 
not  ask  anything  of  you.     Good-by  !  " 

He  rose  and  went  into  the  other  room.  Marianne  did 
not  detain  him.  Neshdanof  sat  down  on  a  sofa  and  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands.  He  was  terrified  by  his  own 
thoughts,  and  did  his  best  to  avoid  thinking.  He  had  a 
strange  feeling,  as  if  an  obscure,  mysterious  hand  had  taken 
a  deep  hold  on  his  being  and  was  never  going  to  let  go. 
He  knew  that  the  dear  girl  in  the  next  room,  close  by, 
would  never  leave  it  to  look  for  him,  and  that  he  would 
never  go  to  her.  Besides,  what  would  be  the  use  ?  What 
could  he  have  said  to  her  ? 


266  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Firm,  quick  steps  made  him  open  his  eyes.  Solomine 
was  crossing  the  room.  He  knocked  at  the  door  of  Mari- 
anne's room  and  went  in. 

"  Salute  and  retire,"  murmured  Neshdanof  bitterly. 

He  had  involuntarily  recalled  the  words  one  sentinel 
uses  in  relieving  another. 


XXXIV. 

IT  was  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  in  the  drawing- 
room  of  Arjanoie,  Sipiagin,  his  wife,  and  Kallomeitsef 
-were  playing  cards,  when  a  footman  entered  to  announce 
the  visit  of  a  stranger,  a  Mr.  Pakline,  who  was  very  anxious 
to  see  Mr.  Sipiagin*on  very  urgent  business  of  the  greatest 
importance. 

"As' late  as  this?"  said  Mme.  Sipiagin  with  astonish- 
ment. 

"  What,"  said  Sipiagin,  curving  his  classic  nostrils,  "  what 
did  you  say  was  the  .gentleman's  name  ? " 

"  He  said  Pakline." 

"  Pakline  !  "  exclaimed  Kallomeitsef.  "  Pakline,  Solo- 
mine  !  De  vrais  nojns  ruraiix^  heiii  ?  "  he  added  in  French.* 

"  And  you  say,"  continued  Sipiagan,  turning  to  the  foot- 
man his  nose,  which  he  still  held  in  the  air,  "  that  it  is  on 
important  business  ? " 

"  So  the  gentleman  said." 

"  Hum  !  it'ij  probably  some  beggar,  or  some  swindler"  ("or 
both  at  once,"  Kallomeitsef  slipped  in).  "  Very  probably. 
Show  him  into  my  study."  He  arose.  "  Excuse  me,  my 
dear — while  you're  waiting  you  might  play  a  game  of 
ecarte,  or  you  can  wait  for  me.     I'll  be  back  at  once." 

"  We  will  talk,  go  ahead  !  "  said  Kallomeitsef. 

When  Sipiagin  entered  his  study  and  saw  Pakline's  piti- 
ful little  figure  leaning  against  the  wall  between  the  door 
and  the  window,  he  was  seized  with  just  that  official  feeling 
of  haughty  pity  and  somewhat  wearied  condescension, 
which  distinguishes  the  great  dignitaries  of  St.  Petersburg. 

"  Heavens  !  he  looks  like  a  plucked  bird,"  thought  he, 
"  and  I  believe  he  limps,  into  the  bargain." 

*   Paklin  means  tow,  and  Soloma,  straw,  in  Russian. —  7V. 

267 


268  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  Sit  down  !  "  he  said,  quite  loud,  in  his  most  affable 
baritone,  tossing  back  his  little  head  benevolently,  and  tak- 
ing a  chair  in  front  of  his  guest.  "  You  must  be  tired  from 
your  drive  ;  sit  down  and  tell  me  what  important  business 
has  brought  you  at  this  time  of  night." 

"  Your  Excellency,"  began  Pakline,  sitting  down  very 
gently  in  an  arm-chair,  "  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  intrud- 
ing upon  you — " 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  interrupted  Sipiagin.  "  I  have  seen 
you  before.  I  never  forget  a  face  I  have  ever  seen  ;  I  have 
an  excellent  memory.  But — but  where  have  I  met 
you  ? 

"  You  are  quite  right,  your  Excellency.  I  had  the  honor 
of  meeting  you  at  St.  Petersburg,  at  the  room  of  a  man 
who,  since  then,  has  been  unfortunate  enough  to  incur  your 
wrath." 

Sipiagin  hastily  arose  from  his  chair. 

"  At  Mr.  Neshdanof's.  I  remember  now.  It  is  not  from 
him,  I  hope,  that  you  have  come  ? " 

"  Not  at  all,  your  Excellency  ;  quite  the  contrary." 

Sipiagin  sat  down  again. 

''  That's  very  fortunate,  for  in  that  case,  I  should  have 
begged  of  you  to  leave  immediately.  No  go-between  can 
be  permitted  to  interfere  in  this  matter.  Mr.  Neshdanof 
has  inflicted  upon  me  one  of  those  insults  which  can  never 
be  forgotten.  I  scorn  revenge  ;  but  I  wish  to  know  noth- 
ing about  him  or  that  young  woman  whose  mind  is  in  fact 
more  depraved  than  her  heart  "  (this  was  at  least  the  thir- 
tieth time  Sipiagin  had  used  this  expression  since  Mari- 
anne's flight).  "  Who  did  not  shrink  from  leaving  this 
roof  when  she  had  found  shelter  to  become  the  mistress  of 
a  low-born  vagabond.  Let  it  be  enough  for  them  that  I 
forget  them  !  " 

With  the  last  few  words  he  waved  his  hand  as  if  he  were 
pushing  something  away. 

"  That  I  forget  them,  sir  !  "  he  repeated. 

"  Your  Excellency,  I  have  had  the  honor  of  assuring 
you  that  I  did  not  come  for  them,  although  it  is  true  I 
might  inform  your  Excellency  that  they  have  been  united 
in  the  bonds  of  lawful  matrimony,"     ("  Bah  !  "  he  thought, 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  269 

"  I  said  I  should  talk  nonsense,  and  now  I  have.  Happen 
what  will.") 

Sipiagin  rolled  his  neck  from  one  side  to  the  other  on  the 
back  of  his  chair. 

"  That  doesn't  concern  me  the  least  in  the  world,  my 
dear  sir.  Another  foolish  marriage,  and  that  is  all  !  But 
what  has  all  this  to  do  with  the  urgent  business  to  which  I 
owe  the  pleasure  of  your  visit  ?  " 

"  Wait  a  moment,  you  cursed  provincial  official,"  thought 
Pakline  again.  "  I'll  teach  you  to  put  on  airs,  with  your 
ugly  English  mug  !  " 

"  Your  wife's  brother,  Mr.  Markelof,"  he  said  aloud,  "  has 
been  arrested  by  the  peasants,  whom  he  was  inciting  to  re- 
volt, and  is  now  locked  up  in  the  governor's  house." 

Sipiagin  gave  a  start. 

"  What — what  do  you  say  ?  "  he  stammered,  no  longer 
in  his  official  baritone,  but,  as  it  were,  catching  his  breath. 

"  I  say  that  your  brother-in-law  has  been  arrested,  and 
that  he  is  now  in  jail.  As  soon  as  I  heard  this  I  took 
horses  and  started  off  to  bring  you  the  news.  I  thought  I 
might  be  of  some  service  to  you  and  to  the  unlucky  man 
whom  you  may  save." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Sipiagin,  with 
the  same  uncertain  voice  ;  he  struck  with  the  palm  of  his 
hand  a  mushroom-shaped  clock-bell  which  filled  the  house 
with  its  metallic  ring.  "  I  am  very  much  obliged,"  he  re- 
peated in  a  more  assured  voice  ;  "  but  understand  that  a 
man  who  dares  to  trample  all  laws  both  human  and  divine 
beneath  his  feet,  were  he  a  hundred  times  my  relative,  is 
not  in  my  eyes  an  unlucky  man,  he  is  a  criminal." 

A  footman  came  running  into  the  study. 

"  What  is  it  you  want,  sir  ?  " 

"  A  carriage,  at  once,  and  four  horses.  I'm  going  to  the 
town.     Philip  and  Stephen  will  go  with  me." 

The  footman  vanished. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  continued  Sipiagin,  "  my  brother-in-law  is  a 
criminal  ;   I  go  to  the  town,  but  not  to  save  him  ;  oh,  no  !  " 

"  But,  your  Excellency — " 

"  These  are  my  principles,  my  dear  sir,  and  I  beg  of  you 
not  to  trouble  and  annoy  me  with  your  objections." 


2  70  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Sipiagin  began  to  walk  up  and  down  his  study.  Pakline 
looked  at  him  with  staring  eyes.  "  The  devil !  "  he  was 
thinking  to  himself,  "  they  said  you  were  a  liberal,  and  you 
are  going  about  like  a  '  roaring  lion.'  " 

The  door  opened  wide,  and  they  saw  first  Valentine 
enter  hastily,  and  then  Kallomei'tsef. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  Boris  ?  You  have  ordered  a 
carriage  ?    You  are  going  to  town  ?  What  has  happened  ?  " 

Sipiagin  went  up  to  his  wife,  and  took  hold  of  her  right 
arm  between  tlie  elbow  and  the  wrist. 

"  You  must  not  be  alarmed,  my  dear,"  he  said  in  French. 
"Your  brother  has  been  arrested." 

"  My  brother  !     Serge  !    What  for  ?  " 

"  He  has  been  preaching  socialism  to  the  peasants." 
(Kallomei'tsef  uttered  a  plaintive  groan.)  "  Yes,  he  has 
been  preaching  revolution  to  them.  He  has  been  trying 
to  get  converts.  The  peasants  arrested  him  and  gave  him 
up  to  justice.     Now  he  is  locked  up  in  the  town." 

"  Oh,  the  unlucky  fool  !     But  who  told  you  ?  " 

"  This  gentleman  here.     Mr. ?     What  is  his  name  ? 

Mr.  Konopatine  has  just  informed  us."* 

Valentine  looked  at  Pakline  who  bowed  meekly.  "  What 
a  superb  woman  !  "  he  thought.  It  will  be  noticed  that 
even  at  the  most  critical  moments  Pakline  remained  suscep- 
tible to  the  charms  of  female  beauty. 

"  And  you  want  to  go  to  town  when  it's  so  late  ?  " 

"  I  shall  find  the  governor  up." 

"  I  always  said  that  would  be  the  end  of  it,"  exclaimed 
Kallomei'tsef.  "  It  couldn't  be  otherwise.  But  what  capi- 
tal fellows  those  Russian  peasants  are  !  It's  wonderful. 
Pardon^  madame"  he  added  in  French,  "  c'est  voire' frere. 
But  truth  before  everything." 

"  But  seriously,  Boris,  do  you  want  to  go  ? "  asked  Valen- 
tine again. 

"  I'd  be  willing  to  bet,"  continued  Kallomei'tsef,  "  that, 
that  other  man,  the  little  tutor,  Mr.  Neshdanof,  is  impli- 
cated too.  I'd  stake  my  life  on  it.  They  are  all  tarred 
with  the  same  stick.  Hasn't  he  been  arrested  ?  Don't  you 
know  ? " 

""  Konopatine  in  Russian  means  to  cram  with  tow. —  TV. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  271 

Sipiagin  again  made  the  gesture  of  pushing  something 
away  with  his  hand. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  him,  and  I  don't  care  to. 
By  the  way,"  he  added,  turning  to  his  wife,  "  it  seems  that 
they  are  married." 

"  Who  told  you  ?     He  ?  " 

She  looked  at  Pakline  again  ;  this  time,  half  closing  her 
eyes. 

"  Yes,  he." 

"  In  that  case,"  cried  KallomeTtsef,  "  he  must  know  where 
they  are.  Do  you  know  where  they  are  ?  Do  you  know  ? 
eh  ?  eh  ?     Do  you«know  ?  " 

While  talking  thus,-  he  danced  first  on  one  side  of  Pak- 
line and  then  on  the  other,  as  if  to  prevent  his  passing  by, 
although  there  was  no  sign  of  his  trying  to  escape. 

"  But  tell  me  !  answer  me  !  eh  ?  Do  you  know  ?  Do 
you  know  ?  " 

Pakline  finally  felt  his  blood  rising  ;  his  little  eyes  flashed, 
he  answered  angrily : 

"  Even  if  I  did  know,  sir,  I  should  not  tell  you." 

"  Oh,  ho  !  "  said  Kallomeitsef,  "  you  hear — you  hear  ?  But 
this  fellow  must  be  one  of  them,  too." 

"  The  carriage  is  ready,"  said  a  footman  opening  the 
door. 

Sipiagin  seized  his  hat  with  an  energetic  but  elegant 
gesture  ;  but  Valentine  besought  him  so  urgently  to  wait 
until  the  next  morning,  she  brought  forward  such  good 
reasons  :  that  night  had  fallen,  that  everybody  in  town 
would  be  in  bed,  that  it  would  only  ruin  his  nerves,  that  he 
might  catch  cold,  that,  finally,  Sipiagin  let  himself  be  per- 
suaded, and  exclaimed  : 

"  I  submit." 

And  with  a  gesture  no  less  elegant,  but  not  at  all  ener- 
getic, he  put  his  hat  down  on  the  table. 

"  You  can  send  the  carriage  back,"  he  ordered  the  foot- 
man, "  but  let  it  be  ready  to-morrow  morning  at  six  punc- 
tually. You  understand  ?  Well,  go  ! — wait  a  moment  ! 
Dismiss  Mr. ■  this  gentleman's,  carriage  !  Pay  the  coach- 
man !  What  ?  Did  you  say  anything,  Mr.  Konopatine  ? 
I'll  take  you  with  me  to-morrow  morning,  Mr.  Konopatine  ! 


272 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


What  do  you  say  ?  I  can't  hear.  You'll  take  some  brandy, 
won't  you  ?  Give  Mr.  Konopatine  some  brandy  !  No  !  you 
won't  take  any  ?  That's  another  thing.  Feodor  !  Show  this 
gentleman  to  the  green  chamber.  Good  night,  Mr.  Kono — " 

Pakline  could  restrain  himself  no  longer. 

"  Pakline  !  "  here  he  roared  in  a  voice  of  thunder.  "  My 
name  is  Pakline  !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  ;  it's  the  same  thing  ;  it  makes  no  differ- 
ence, you  know.  But  what  a  voice  you  have,  and  you  look 
so  weak  !  Well,  I'll  see  you  to-morrow,  Mr.  Pakline. 
Am  I  right  this  time  ?  Simeon,  you  will  come  with  us  ?  " 
he  added  in  French  to  Kallomeitsef. 

"  Of  course,  I'm  coming." 

They  led  Pakline  to  the  green  rooni,  and  they  even  locked 
him  in.  While  he  was  undressing  he  heard  the  key  turn 
in  the  English  lock.  He  cursed  his  plan,  which  was  such 
an  inspiration  of  genius,  and  enjoyed  very  uneasy  slumbers. 

The  next  morning,  at  half-past  five  he  was  aroused. 
They  brought  him  his  coffee,  and,  while  he  was  drinking 
it,  the  footman,  who  was  decorated  with  many-colored 
shoulder  knots,  stood  watching  him,  with  his  waiter  in  his 
hands,  resting  first  on  one  foot  and  then  on  another,  as  if 
he  were  saying,  "  Come,  hurry,  hurry,  the  gentlemen  are 
waiting  for  you  !  "  Then  they  showed  him  down.  The 
carriage  was  already  at  the  door,  as  well  as  Kallomeitsef 's 
wagon. 

Sipiagin  came  out  on  the  steps,  wrapped  in  a  woolen 
cloak  with  a  rounded  collar.  For  a  long  time  these  cloaks 
had  not  been  worn  by  any  one  except  a  certain  very  high 
personage,  to  whom  Sipiagin  paid  court,  and  whom  he  tried 
to  imitate.  On  official  and  important  occasions  he  never 
forgot  this  cloak. 

He  saluted  Pakline  civilly,  and  pointing  quickly  to  the 
cushion  of  the  carriage  asked  him  to  sit  there. 

"  Mr.  Pakline,  you  are  coming  with  me,  Mr.  Pakline. 
Put  Mr.  Pakline's  carpet-bag  on  the  seat  !  I'm  going  to 
take  Mr.  Pakline  !  "  he  said,  throwing  the  accent  on  the  a 
of  his  name.  "  So,"  he  seemed  to  be  trying  to  convey  ! 
"  you  are  cursed  with  a  name  like  that,  and  you  are  angry 
because  people  change  it  !     Well,  you  can  get  your  fill  of 


VIRGIN-  SOU. 


273 


it  now !  Stuff  yourself  with  it  !  Mr.  Pakline,  Mr.  Pak- 
line  !  "  This  unfortunate  name  resounded  perpetually  in 
the  cool  morning  air. 

The  air  was  so  cool  that  KallomeTtsef,  who  came  out 
just  behind  Sipiagin,  said  a  great  many  times,  "  Brr,  brr, 
brr ! "  like  a  Frenchman,  and  wrapped  himself  more 
warmly  in  his  cloak  as  he  got  into  his  elegant  open  wagon. 
(When  his  poor  friend,  Prince  Michael  Obrenovitch  of 
Servia  saw  this  wagon,  he  bought  one  just  like  it  of  Bin- 
der. "You  ktiow  Binder,  the  great  carriage-maker  on  the 
Champs-Elysees.") 

Meanwhile,  Valentine,  "  in  cap  and  gown  of  night,"  * 
was  looking  at  them  through  the  half-open  shutters. 

Sipiagin  got  into  the  carriage  and  waved  his  hand  to  her. 

"  Are  you  quite  comfortable,  Mr.  Pakline  ?   Go  ahead  !  " 

"  I  intrust  my  brother  to  you  ;  be  gentle  with  him," 
said  Valentine. 

"  Don't  be  uneasy,"  answered  Kallome'itsef,  casting 
toward  her  a  calm  glance  from  beneath  the  edge  of  his 
traveling-cap,  on  the  top  of  which  was  a  cockade — this  was 
his  semi-ofhcial  cap,  which  he  had  himself  devised.  "  It's 
the  other  we  shall  have  to  catch  !  Go  on,"  he  ordered 
again  ;  "  you  are  not  cold,  Mr.  Pakline  ?     Go  on  !  " 

The  carriages  started. 

During  the  first  part  of  the  way,  both  Sipiagin  and  Pak- 
line kept  silence.  Poor  Sila,  with  his  shabby  overcoat  and 
his  worn-out  cap,  looked  even  more  pitiful  than  ever  against 
the  dark  blue  ground  of  rich  silk  with  which  the  carriage 
was  lined. 

He  looked  quietly  at  the  delicate  blue  curtains  which 
rolled  up  so  quickly  when  a  spring  was  touched,  and  at  the 
white,  curly,  sheep's  wool  foot-warmer  into  which  he  stuck 
his  feet  ;  and  at  the  little  red  wooden  box,  fastened  on  the 
front  of  the  carriage,  whence  fell  a  little  tablet  for  writing, 
and  even  a  rest  for  a  book.  (Sipiagin  used  to  like,  or 
rather  he  wanted  to  make  people  think  he  liked  to  work 
in  his  carriage,  as  M.  Thiers  does  on  journeys.) 

Pakline  felt  ill  at  ease.     Sipiagin  glanced  at  him  twice 

*  A  line  from  Poushkine. 
18 


2  74  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  over  the  edge  of  his  smoothly- 
shaven  cheek,  and  then  with  impressive  slowness  he  drew 
from  his  side  pocket  a  silver  cigar-case,  richly  decorated 
with  a  monogram  in  Slavonic  characters,  and  offered  him, 
yes,  he  positively  offered  him  a  cigar,  which  he  held  be- 
tween the  second  and  third  fingers  of  his  hand,  which  was 
protected  by  yellow   English  dog-skin  gloves. 

"  I — I  don't  smoke,"  stammered  Pakline. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Sipiagin,  and  he  lit  himself  the  cigar,  a  de- 
licious regalia. 

"  I  must  tell  you,  dear  Mr.  Pakline,"  he  said  politely, 
blowing  out  with  little  puffs  delicate  waving  lines  of  fra- 
grant smoke,  "  that  I  am  really  very  much  obliged  to 
you.  Last  evening  I  may  have  seemed  a  little  harsh  to 
you — that  is  not — not  my  usual  way  "  (Sipiagin  cut  up  his 
sentences  in  this  way  designedly),  '*  I  can  assure  you. 
But,  Mr.  Pakline,  just  put  yourself  in  my — my  position." 
(Sipiagin  here  rolled  his  cigar  to  the  other  corner  of  his 
mouth.)  "  My  position  makes  me — what  shall  I  say  ? 
prominent  ;  and  suddenly — my  wife's  brother — coinpro- 
mises  himself,  and  compromises  me — me  too  in  the  most 
incredible  way.  What  do  you  say  to  that,  Mr.  Pakline  ? 
You  think,  perhaps,  that  no  very  serious  matter  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so  at  all,  your  Excellency." 

"  You  don't  know  exactly  why  nor  when  he  was  ar- 
rested ?  " 

"  I  have  heard  that  it  was  in  the  district  of  T ." 

"  Who  told  you  ?  " 

"  A — a  man." 

"  Of  course  it  wasn't  a  bird.    But  who  was  the  man  ? " 

"  The  assistant  of  the  manager  of  the  governor's  court." 

"  What  is  his  name  ? " 

"  Of  the  manager  ?  " 
No,  the  assistant." 

His  name  is  Ouliachevitch.  He's  a  very  conscientious 
official,  your  Excellency.  As  soon  as  I  heard  of  this  affair 
I  hastened  to  bring  word  to  you." 

"  Yes,  exactly,  and  I  tell  you  again  that  I'm  very  much 
obliged  to  you.  But  what  nonsense  it  all  is,  Mr.  Pakline, 
isn  t  It  ? 


li 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


275 


"  The  most  utter  nonsense  !  "  exclaimed  Pakline,  who 
felt  a  cold  sweat  rolling  like  a  small  damp  snake  down  his 
back.  "  It's  a  totally  mistaken  idea  of  the  Russian  peas- 
ant. Mr.  Markelof,  so  far  as  I  know  him,  has  a  good  and 
really  noble  heart,  but  he  has  never  understood  the  Russian 
peasant."  Pakline  gave  a  quick  glance  at  Sipiagin,  who  was 
half  turned  toward  him,  and  was  looking  at  him  with  a 
cold  but  not  hostile  expression.  "  Those  who  want  to  in- 
cite our  peasants  to  revolution  can  only  do  it  by  making  use 
of  their  devotion  to  the  imperial  power  and  family.  They 
would  have  to  devise  some  story  like  that  of  the  false 
Demetrius  who  should  show  on  his  breast  the  imperial  mark 
which  he  branded  them  with,  a  red-hot  kopeck." 

"Yes,, yes,  like  Pougatchef,"  interrupted  Sipiagin,  with  an 
air  which  said,  "  Don't  be  too  learned  ;  other  people  know 
their  history,  too."  And  repeating  again,  "  It's  nonsense, 
perfect  nonsense  !  "  he  seemed  to  busy  himself  once  more 
in  contemplation  of  the  line  of  smoke  which  rose  rapidly 
from  the  end  of  his  cigar. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  said  Pakline,  with  a  little  more 
confidence,  "  I  told  you  just  now  that  I  did  not  smoke,  but 
that  was  not  true.  I  do  smoke,  and  your  cigar  is  so  fra- 
grant—  " 

"  Eh  !  what !  What  did  you  say  ?  "  said  Sipiagin,  as  if 
he  had  been  waked  up  from  a  deep  sleep,  and  without  giv- 
ing Pakline  time  to  repeat  what  he  had  said  (a  proof  that 
he  had  understood  him  perfectly  and  only  pretended 
not  to  have  heard  him),  he  offered  him  his  open  cigar- 
case. 

Pakline  modestly  lit  a  cigar,  with  a  grateful  air.  "  I  take 
it,  this  would  be  a  favorable  moment,"  he  thought. 

But  Sipiagin  anticipated  him. 

"  You  said  something,  I  believe,"  he  began,  with  an  air 
of  indifference,  and  with  frequent  pauses  to  look  at  his  cigar, 
to  puff  out  his  cheeks,  and  to  push  his  cap  over  his  face 
from  the  back  of  his  head,  "you  said  something,  didn't 
you — you  spoke  about  your  other  friend,  the  one  who  mar- 
ried my — relative.  You've  seen  them  ?  They  are  living 
near  here  ? " 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  thought  Pakline.  "  Sila,  my  boy,  take  care  !" 


276  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  I  have  only  seen  them  once,  your  Excellency.  They 
are  living  in  fact  not  very  far  from  here." 

"  Of  course  you  understand,"  resumed  Sipiagin  in  the 
same  way,  *'  that,  as  I  said,  I  can't  take  any  serious  interest 
in  that  thoughtless  girl  nor  in  your  friend.  Heavens  !  I'm 
not  prejudiced,  but  you  must  see  it's  a  ridiculous  business  ; 
it's  too  stupid.  Besides,  I  can't  help  thinking  that  what 
brought  them  together  was  politics — politics  !  "  he  repeated, 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  "  rather  than  any  other  feeling." 

"  I  think  so  too,  your  Excellency." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Neshdanof  was  a  real  radical.  I  ought  to  do 
him  the  justice  of  saying  that  he  never  concealed  his  opin- 
ions." 

"  Neshdanof,"  Pakhne  ventured  to  say,  "  has  possibly  let 
himself  be  led  away  ;  but  his  heart — " 

"  He  has  a  good  heart,"  interrupted  Sipiagin  ;  "  of  course, 
of  course  :  just  like  Markelof.  All  these  gentlemen  have 
very  good  hearts.  Probably  he  too  had  something  to  do 
with  this  matter,  and  will  be  caught.  Something  ought  to 
be  done  for  him." 

Pakline  pressed  his  two  hands  upon  his  breast. 

"  Ah  !  yes,  yes,  your  Excellency  !  Grant  him  your  pro- 
tection !  He  deserves  it — I  assure  you — he  deserves  your 
sympathy." 

"  Ahem  !  "  sighed  Sipiagin  ;  "  do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  And  if  not  for  himself,  do  it  for  your  niece,  his  wife. 
(Good  God  !  what  fibs  I'm  telling  !"  said  Pakline  to  himself 
once  more.) 

Sipiagin  half  closed  his  eyes. 

"  You  are  a  most  devoted  friend,  I  see  clearly.  That  is 
very  proper,  and  very  praiseworthy  of  you.  So  you  say 
that  they  live  very  near  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  Excellency  ;  in  a  large  establishment — " 

Pakline  bit  his  tongue. 

"  So  ;  at  Solomine's  !  exactly  !  Besides,  I  knew  that ; 
people  had  been  talking  about  it ;  yes,  they  had  said  so — 
yes  !  "  Sipiagin  had  no  previous  notion  of  it,  and  no  one 
had  breathed  a  word  about  it ;  but  recalling  Solomine's 
visit  and  their  nocturnal  interviews,  he  threw  out  this  bait, 
and  Pakline  swallowed  it. 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


277 


"  Since  you  know — "  he  began,  then  he  stopped  and  bit 
his  tongue  again,  but  it  was  too  late  ;  a  glance  which  Sipi- 
agin  cast  at  him  showed  him  that  throughout  the  whole 
conversation,  Sipiagin  had  been  playing  with  him  as  a  cat 
plays  with  a  mouse. 

"  Besides,  your  Excellency,"  the  poor  wretch  stammered, 
"  I  must  tell  you  that  in  fact  I  know  nothing  at  all — " 

"  But  I  haven't  asked  you  anything.  Come  !  what  does 
this  mean  ?  For  whom  do  you  take  us  ?  "  haughtily  ex- 
claimed Sipiagin,  putting  on  again  his  official  supercilious- 
ness. 

And  Pakline  felt  again  very  humble  and  wretched,  as  if 
he  had  been  cauglft  and  muzzled.  Until  that  moment  he 
had  been  smoking  with  the  cigar  in  the  further  corner  of  his 
mouth,  and  he  had  been  gently  puffing  the  smoke  out  as 
if  by  stealth,  but  then  he  took  the  cigar  from  his  lips  and 
stopped  smoking  entirely. 

"  Good  God  !  "  he  moaned,  while  bathed  in  a  cold 
sweat.  "  What  have  I  done  ?  I  have  betrayed  everything 
and  everybody  !  They  have  humbugged  me,  and  bought 
me  with  a  good  cigar  !  I'm  an  informer  !  and  how,  good 
Lord,  can  I  mend  the  mischief  now  ? " 

It  was  too  late  now,  however,  to  repair  the  evil.  Sipia- 
gin had  fallen  asleep  in  a  dignified  and  serious  way,  like  a 
real  minister,  wrapped  up  in  his  robes  of  office.  Besides, 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  the  two  carriages  stopped  before 
the  governor's  house. 


XXXV. 

THE  governor  of  S was  one  of  those  good-natured, 
careless,  and  worldly  generals,  with  white,  neat,  clean 
skin,  and  a  soul  almost  as  clean  as  their  body  ;  they  are  gen- 
erally well-born,  well  brought  up,  and  with  qualities  well 
kneaded  together  like  good  wheat  bread  ;  without  any  in- 
tention of  becoming  leaders  of  men,  they  find  themselves 
very  tolerable  officials  ;  they  do  not  work  very  hard,  they 
sigh  continually  for  St.  Petersburg,  and  pay  court  to  the 
pretty  women  of  the  provinces  ;  they  are  of  undeniable 
service  to  their  government,  and  leave  very  kindly  memories 
behind  them. 

He  had  just  got  out  of  bed  ;  and,  arrayed  in  a  silk  dress- 
ing-gown, with  his  night-shirt  unbuttoned,  he  was  sitting 
before  his  shaving-glass,  washing  his  face  and  neck  with 
water  perfumed  with  cologne,  having  first  removed  a  whole 
collection  of  images  and  scapularies,  when  word  was 
brought  him  that  Sipiagin  and  Kallome'itsef  had  come  to 
see  him  on  very  urgent  business. 

He  knew  Sipiagin  very  well  ;  they  had  been  on  most  in- 
timate terms  since  their  tenderest  infancy  ;  they  had  fre- 
quently met  in  St.  Petersburg  drawing-rooms,  and  for  some 
time,  whenever  Sipiagin's  name  occurred  to  him,  he  in- 
variably added  a  respectful  "  Ah  !  "  as  he  would  to  a  fu- 
ture high  official. 

He  knew  Kallome'itsef  less  well,  and  thought  much  less 
highly  of  him  ;  for  some  time  he  had  been  hearing  disa- 
greeable complaints  about  him  ;  but  he  thought  of  him  as 
one  who  would  rise  in  the  world,  in  one  way  or  another. 

He  sent  word  to  his  visitors  to  step  into  his  office,  and 
he  soon  joined  them,  still  in  his  dressing-gown.  He  did 
not  even  apologize  for  receiving  them  in  so  informal  a 
dress,  and  shook  hands  with  them  politely. 

278 


VIRGIN'  SOIL.  2  79 

Pakline  had  not  followed  the  two  others  into  the  gover- 
nor's office  ;  he  was  waiting  in  the  parlor.  As  he  got  out 
of  the  carriage  he  tried  to  get  away  under  pretense  of 
business  at  home  ;  but  Sipiagin  had  detained  him  with 
polite  firmness,  while  Kallomei'tsef  came  running  up  all 
out  of  breath,  and  whispered  in  the  ear  of  his  friend  Boris, 
"  Don't  let  him  go  !  Thunder  and  Mars  !  "  and  had  made 
him  go  up  with  them.  Still,  Sipiagin  had  not  taken  him 
into  the  office,  but  with  the  same  polite  firmness,  he  had 
asked  him  to  sit  down  in  the  parlor  and  wait  till  he  should 
be  called. 

Pakline,  when  he  was  left  alone,  thought  again  of 
running  away,  but  *a  sturdy  gendarme,  who  had  been 
sent  by.  Kallomei'tsef,  appeared  at  the  door.  Pakline 
stayed. 

"  I  suppose  you  can  guess  what  has  brought  me,  Vladi- 
mir ?  "  said  Sipiagin  to  the  governor. 

"  No,  my  dear  friend,  I  cannot,"  answered  the  kindly 
epicurean,  while  a  polite  smile  rounded  his  rosy  cheeks, 
showing  his  glistening  teeth,  half  concealed  by  silky  mus- 
taches. 

"  What  ?     But  has  Markelof— " 

"What  Markelof?"  repeated  the  governor  with  the 
same  expression. 

He  had  an  indistinct  recollection  that  the  person  who 
had  been  arrested  the  evening  before  was  named  Markelof, 
and  he  had  completely  forgotten  that  Mme.  Sipiagin  had 
a  brother  of  that  name. 

"  But  won't  you  sit  down,  Boris  ?  "  he  went  on  ;  "  take  a 
chair  ;  won't  you  take  a  cup  of  tea  ? " 

Sipiagin  had  something  very  different  in  his  head.  Fi- 
nally, when  he  had  told  his  story  and  explained  why 
Kallomei'tsef  and  he  had  come  to  see  him,  the  governor  ut- 
tered an  expression  of  grief ;  he  struck  his  forehead  with 
his  hand,  and  his  face  looked  sincerely  pained. 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  he  repeated.  "  What  a  terrible  thing  ! 
He's  still  here,  provisionally  ;  you  know  we  keep  them 
only  one  night ;  only  the  chief  of  police  is  not  in  town  to- 
day, that's  why  your  brother-in-law  is  still  here.  But  he'll 
be  sent  off  to-morrow.     Heavens,  what  a  painful  piece  of 


28o  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

business  !  How  your  wife  must  suffer  !  What  can  I  do 
for  you  ? " 

"  I  should  hke  to  have  an  interview  with  him  here,  if  the 
law  permits." 

"  What,  my  friend  !  Laws  were  not  made  for  people 
like  you.  I'm  sure  I  sympathize  with  your  distress.  It's 
dreadful,  you  know." 

He  gave  a  certain  signal  with  his  bell.  An  aide-de- 
camp appeared. 

"  Dear  baron,  if  you  please,  will  you  have  the  kindness — " 
he  whispered  what  he  wanted  him  to  do.  The  baron  dis- 
appeared. "  Only  think,  my  dear  friend,  the  peasants 
nearly  killed  him.  They  tied  his  hands  behind  his  back, 
and  off  they  went  with  him.  And  as  for  him,  he  doesn't 
seem  angry,  or  as  if  he  took  it  ill,  upon  my  word  !  He's 
perfectly  calm — I  was  exceedingly  surprised.  But  then 
you'll  see  him.     He's  one  of  the  quiet  fanatics." 

"  Those  are  the  worst  kind,"  said  Kallomeitsef  senten- 
tiously. 

The  governor  looked  at  him  rather  severely. 

"  By  the  way,  I've  something  to  say  to  you,  Simeon 
Petrovitch." 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  It's  a  sad  thing." 

"  But  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  You  remember  the  peasant  who  owed  you  money  and 
who  came  here  to  make  a  coranlaint  ? " 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  He's  hung  himself." 

"  When  ?  "  • 

"  It  makes  no  difference  when  ;  but  it's  a  sad  piece  of 
business." 

Kallomeitsef  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  walked  off 
toward  the  window,  with  an  indifferent  air. 

The  aide-de-camp  returned,  accompanied  by  Markelof. 

The  governor  had  spoken  truly  ;  Markelof  was  wonder- 
fully calm.  The  gloom  which  usually  sat  upon  his  face 
had  been  succeeded  by  an  expression  of  weary  indifference. 
There  was  no  change  when  he  saw  his  brother-in-law,  but 
when  he  cast  a  quick  glance  at  the  German  aide-de-camp 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  281 

who  had  brought  him  in,  there  could  be  seen  in  his  eyes  a 
last  spark  of  the  old  hate  with  which  that  class  of  men  in- 
spired him. 

His  coat  was  torn  in  two  places,  and  roughly  darned  with 
coarse  thread  ;  on  his  forehead,  eyebrows,  and  nose,  were 
scars  and  traces  of  coagulated  blood.  He  had  not  washed 
his  face,  but  he  had  combed  his  hair.  He  stood  still  near 
the  door  with  his  hands  buried  in  his  sleeves.  His  breath- 
ing was  regular. 

"  Serge  !  "  said  Sipiagin  in  a  broken  voice,  taking  two 
steps  toward  him,  and  holding  out  his  hand  just  so  as  to 
touch  him  or  to  step  him  if  he  should  come  forward  : 
"  Serge,  I  haven't  come  here  to  tell  you  about  our  surprise 
and  great  grief,  for  you  cannot  doubt  of  them.  You  wanted 
to  ruin  yourself  and  you  have  succeeded.  But  I  wanted 
to  see  you,  to  make  you — ahem  ! — to  give  you  an  opportu- 
nity to  listen  to  the  voice  of  reason,  of  honor,  of  friendship  ! 
You  can  still  alleviate  your  lot,  and  I  will  do  my  share. 
See,  here  is  the  honorable  head  of  our  government,  who 
will  confirm  all  I  have  said." 

Here  Sipiagin  raised  his  voice. 

"  Sincere  repentance  for  the  past,  full  and  free  confession, 
which  will  be  forwarded  to  those  who — " 

"  Your  Excellency,"  said  Markelof  suddenly,  turning 
toward  the  governor — his  voice  was  calm  but  a  little  husky 
— "  I  thought  you  wanted  to  see  me  to  resume  the  examina- 
tion. But  if  you  have  onl;  had  me  brought  here  at  Mr. 
Sipiagin's  request,  I  beg  that  you  will  send  me  back  again. 
We  can  come  to  no  agreement.  Everything  he  says  is 
Greek  to  me." 

"  Excuse  me — Greek  !  "  interrupted  Kallomei'tsef  in  a 
harsh,  high  voice.  "  Is  it  Greek  to  stir  up  the  peasants  ? 
Is  it  Greek,  eh  ?     Is  it  Greek?  " 

"  Your  Excellency,  is  that  man  one  of  the  secret  police  ? 
He's  so  zealous  !  "  said  Markelof,  while  a  faint  smile  of 
pleasure  lit  up  his  pallid  lips. 

Kallomei'tsef  ground  his  teeth  and  stamped  his  foot. 
The  governor  stopped  him. 

"  It's  your  own  fault.  Why  do  you  meddle  in  what 
doesn't  concern  you  ?  " 


2  82  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  That  doesn't  concern  me  !  That  doesn't  concern  me  ! 
It  seems  to  me  it  concerns  all  of  us  gentlemen  !  " 

Markelof  threw  a  slow,  scornfid  glance  at  Kallome'itsef, 
as  if  it  was  the  last  look  he  should  ever  give  him,  then  he 
turned  a  little  toward  Sipiagin. 

"  As  for  you,  my  dear  brother-in-law,  if  you  want  me  to 
explain  my  ideas  to  you,  here  they  are  :  I  acknowledge 
that  the  peasants  are  quite  justified  in  arresting  me  and 
handing  me  over  to  the  authorities,  since  my  words  dis- 
pleased them.  They  were  perfectly  free  to  do  as  they  did. 
I  went  to  them,  they  did  not  come  to  me.  And  if  I  am 
sent  to  Siberia  I  shall  not  complain,  although  I  think  my- 
self innocent.  The  government  is  doing  its  duty,  it  is  de- 
fending itself  !     Doesn't  that  satisfy  you  ?  " 

Sipiagin  raised  his  hands  high. 

"  Doesn't  that  satisfy  me  ?  what  an  expression.  That  is 
not  the  question,  and  it  is  not  for  us  to  judge  what  the 
government  may  think  it  proper  to  do  ;  but  I  want  to 
know  if  you  understand,  my  dear  Serge  "  (here  he  touched 
emotional  chords)  "  the  inconsistency,  the  folly  of  this  at- 
tempt ;  if  you  are  ready  to  give  some  sign  of  repentance, 
and  if,  up  to  a  certain  point,  I  can  answer  for  you,  Serge  ?  " 

Markelof  knit  his  thick  brows. 

"  I  have  spoken,  and  I  don't  care  to  go  over  it  again." 

"  But  your  repentance — how  about  that  ?  " 

Markelof  burst  out  violently. 

"  Don't  bother  about  repentance  !  You  want  to  find 
out  my  heart's  secret  ?  That's  my  own  affair.  Leave  me 
alone,  please." 

Sipiagin  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  You  are  always  the  same  ;  you  will  not  listen  to  the 
voice  of  reason  !  You  might  get  out  of  this  scrape  hon- 
orably, without  any  scandal." 

"  Honorably,  without  any  scandal !  "  repeated  Markelof 
grimly.  "  We  know  what  that  means.  Such  expressions 
are  always  used  when  any  villainy  is  proposed.  That's  their 
real  meaning." 

"  We  pity  you,"  said  Sipiagin,  continuing  to  argue  with 
Markelof,  "  and  you  hate  ug — " 

"  Tender  pity  !     You  send  us  to  Siberia,  to  prison,  that's 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  283 

the  way  you  show  your  pity  !  Oh,  leave  me  alone,  in 
Heaven's  name  !  " 

And  Markelof  bowed  his  head. 

In  spite  of  his  external  calm  he  was  exceedingly  agitated. 
What  was  torturing  and  chafing  him  more  than  anything 
else  was  that  he  had  been  betrayed — by  whom  ?  By  Ere- 
mei  of  Galapliok  !  By  that  Eremei,  in  whom  he  had  so 
blindly  trusted  ? 

That  Mendele'i  Dontik  had  not  followed  him,  did  not 
surprise  him — Mendelei  was  a  drunkard,  and  consequently 
a  coward.  But  Ereme'i,  EremeT,  who  had  been  for  Marke- 
lof the  very  personification  of  the  Russian  people  !  It  was 
he  who  had  betrayed  him. 

So  all -of  Markelof 's  efforts  had  been  without  rhyme  or 
reason  !  So  Kisliakof  had  only  talked  nonsense  !  So 
Vassili  Nicholai'vitch  had  given  absurd  orders,  and  all 
the  articles,  and  pamphlets,  and  socialist  and  free-think- 
ing books,  every  line  of  which  seemed  something  plain  and 
absolute — were  all  a  snare  and  a  delusion  !  ^^■  as  it  possi- 
ble ?  and  that  comparison  about  the  ripe  abscess,  was  that 
mere  verbiage  ? 

"  No,  no,"  he  murmured  to  himself,  while  a  light  flush 
crept  over  his  bronzed  cheeks  ;  "  no,  it's  all  true — and  it  is 
my  fault ;  I  haven't  said  or  done  what  was  right ;  I  ought  to 
have  simply  given  my  orders,  and  if  any  one  resisted,  have 
lodged  a  ball  in  his  head,  without  any  further  remark. 
Whoever  is  not  with  us  is  unworthy  to  live — one  does  a 
good  service  in  shooting  down  spies  like  dogs  and  worse 
things  yet." 

And  Markelof  went  over  in  his  mind  the  events  of  his 
Avork  :  At  first  the  silence  of  the  peasants,  then  their  wink- 
ing at  one  another,  the  shouts  of  those  on  the  outside.  Then 
a  peasant,  Avho  came  up  one  side  as  if  he  were  going  to 
make  a  l)ow  to  him.  Then  a  sudden  scuffle,  and  he, 
Markelof,  was  knocked  down.  "  My  friends,  my  friends, 
what  are  you  doing  ? "  And  they.  "  Quick,  a  rope  !  Tie 
him  ! "  Then  his  bones  cracking,  and  impotent  rage, 
vile  dust  in  his  mouth  and  nostrils.  "  Turn  him  over,  put 
him  in  the  telega  !  "  A  great  roar  of  laughter — oh,  the 
hideous  thing  ! 


284  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  I  didn't  manage  right,  I  didn't  manage  right." 

That  is  what  was  tormenting  and  racking  him.  That  he 
had  been  thrashed  was  simply  a  personal  misfortune,  which 
had  no  connection  with  the  common  undertaking — that 
could  be  endured — but  Ereme'i,  Ereme'i ! 

While  Markelof  was  standing  thus  with  his  head  sunk 
on  his  breast,  Sipiagin  drew  the  governor  to  one  side,  and 
whispered  to  him  with  little  quiet  gestures,  tapping  his  fore- 
head with  two  fingers,  as  if  to  say,  "  You  know,  the  poor 
fellow  isn't  quite  right  there,"  trying  to  arouse  if  not  sym- 
pathy, at  least  pity  for  the  unfortunate  creature. 

And  the  governor  shrugged  his  shoulders,  opening  and 
closing  his  eyes  alternately  ;  he  regretted  his  powerlessness, 
and  finally  promised  something. 

"  Every  consideration,  certainly  every  consideration,"  he 
lisped  politely  through  his  perfumed  mustaches. 

While  they  were  talking  in  the  corner,  Kallome'itsef  had 
great  difficulty  in  keeping  quiet  ;  he  moved  restlessly,  he 
smacked  his  tongue,  coughed,  and  in  a  word  he  showed 
every  sign  of  impatience.  Finally  he  could  stand  it  no  longer, 
and  going  up  to  Sipiagin,  he  whispered  quickly  in  his  ear : 

"  You've  forgotten  the  other  !  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  answered  Sipiagin  aloud  ;  "  thank  you  for  re- 
minding me.  I  must  bring  the  following  circumstances  to 
the  knowledge  of  your  Excellency,"  he  said  addressing  the 
governor. 

He  used  this  formal  language  with  his  friend  Vladimir, 
in  order  not  to  impair  the  majesty  of  authority  in  the 
presence  of  an  insurgent.  "  Certain  facts  have  led  me  to 
the  supposition  that  my  brother-in-law's  foolish  attempts 
must  have  ramifications,  and  that  one  of  these  branches — 
in  other  words,  one  of  the  individuals  whom  I  suspect — is 
very  near  this  town.  Have  that  man  brought  in,"  he  add- 
ed in  a  low  voice.  "  There's  some  one  in  your  parlor,  I 
brought  him  here." 

The  governor  gazed  at  Sipiagin,  and  thought  admiringly, 
"  What  a  man  he  is  !  "  and  gave  the  order.  A  moment 
later,  and  the  servant  of  God,*  Sila  Pakline,  appeared  be- 
fore them. 

*The  official  phrase  used  in  sucli  cases. —  Tr. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  285 

Sila  Pakline  bowed  very  low  before  the  governor  ;  but 
when  he  saw  Markelof,  he  did  not  finish  his  bow,  and  stood 
with  his  head  bending  forward,  turning  his  cap  in  his 
hands. 

Markelof  gave  a  hasty  look,  and  he  probably  did 
not  recognize  him,  for  he  buried  himself  again  in  his 
thoughts. 

"  Is  that  the  branch  ? "  asked  the  governor,  pointing  to 
Pakline  with  his  long,  white  finger  on  which  was  a  turquoise 
ring. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  answered  Sipiagin,  laughing  a  little.  "Yet," 
he  added,  after  a  momentary  reflection,  "  your  Excellen- 
cy," he  went  on  aloud,  "  you  see  before  you  a  certain  Mr. 
Pakline,  To  the  best  of  my  knowledge  he  lives  in  St. 
Petersburg,  and  he  is  the  intimate  friend  of  a  certain  person 
who  filled  the  position  of  tutor  in  my  house,  whence  he 
ran  away,  taking  with  him — I  am  burning  with  mortification 
when  I  say  it — a  young  girl,  a  relation  of  mine." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,"  mumbled  the  governor,  nodding  his  head. 
"  I  heard  something  about  it  at  the  countess's." 

Sipiagin  raised  his  voice. 

"  The  person  I  just  mentioned  is  a  certain  Mr.  Nesh- 
danof,  who  is  strongly  suspected  by  me  of  dangerous  ideas 
and  theories." 

"  He's  a  most  fiery  radical !  "  added  Kallomei'tsef. 

"  Dangerous  ideas  and  theories,"  repeated  Sipiagin  still 
more  distinctly.  "  He  is  certainly  mixed  up  with  this  whole 
crusade,  and  he  is  now  hiding,  Mr.  Pakline  tells  me,  in  the 
merchant  Faleief's  factory." 

At  the  words,  "  Mr.  Pakline  tells  me,"  Markelof  looked 
again  at  Pakline,  but  he  merely  smiled  slowly  and  uncon- 
cernedly. 

"  Excuse  me,  excuse  me,  your  Excellency,"  cried  Pak- 
line, "  and  you  too,  Mr.  Sipiagin,  I  never — never —  " 

"  You  said,  at  Faleief's  ? "  the  governor  asked  of  Sip- 
iagin, gently  waving  his  hand  at  Pakline  as  if  to  say, 
"  Gently,  my  boy,  gently  ;  your  turn  will  come  in  a  mo- 
ment ! "  "  What  has  got  into  those  long-bearded  mer- 
chants ?  One  was  arrested  yesterday  for  this  very  affair. 
You  know  his  name,  perhaps  ? — Goloushkine,  a  rich  fel- 


286  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

low.  Oh,  he'll  never  lead  a  revolution.  All  day  he  has 
been  groveling  on  the  ground  on  his  knees." 

"  Falei'ef  is  not  implicated  in  this  business,"  said  Sipiagin. 
"  I  have  no  idea  what  his  opinions  are.  I  only  wanted  to 
speak  about  his  factory,  where  Mr.  Neshdanof  is  at  present, 
according  to  Mr.  Pakline — " 

"  I  didn't  say  so,"  roared  Pakline.  "You  said  so  your- 
self." 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Pakline,"  retorted  Sipiagin  with  a  pit- 
ilessly distinct  intonation,  "  I  respect  the  feeling  of  friend- 
ship which  inspires  your  denial."  ("  Oh,  Guizot,  over  again," 
thought  the  governor.)  "  But  I  will  take  the  liberty  of  point- 
ing out  to  you  my  own  case.  Do  you  think  the  feeling  of 
relationship  is  not  as  strong  in  me  as  that  of  friendship  in 
you  ?  But  there  is  another  feeling,  my  dear  sir,  which  is 
even  stronger,  and  which  ought  to  guide  all  our  actions — 
the  feeling  of  duty  !  " 

"  Lc  sentiment  du  devoir"  said  Kallomeitsef,  translating  it 
into  French. 

Markelof  looked  at  both  of  the  orators. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  he  said,  "  I  repeat  my  request :  order 
me,  please,  to  be  taken  out  of  the  presence  of  these  two 
wind-bags." 

But  at  this  the  governor  lost  his  patience. 

"  Mr.  Markelof,"  he  cried,  "  in  view  of  your  position  1 
should  advise  you  to  be  more  careful  what  you  say,  and  to 
show  more  respect  for  your  superiors,  especially  when  they 
express  such  patriotic  sentiments  as  those  which  you  have 
just  heard  from  the  lips  of  your  brother-in-law.  It  will 
give  me  a  great  deal  of  pleasure,  my  dear  Boris,"  the  gov- 
ernor went  on,  "  to  give  the  minister  an  account  of  your 
noble  conduct.  But  where  exactly  in  the  mill  is  this  Mr. 
Neshdanof  ?  " 

Sipiagin  frowned. 

"  He's  with  a  certain  Mr.  Solomine,  superintendent  of 
the  mill,  according  to  Mr.  Pakline." 

Sipiagin  seemed  to  feel  a  particular  delight  in  tormenting 
poor  Sila  ;  it  was  the  way  he  took  his  revenge  for  the  cigar 
he  had  offered  him  in  the  carriage,  and  for  the  familiar, 
intimate,  almost  playful  politeness  which  he  had  paid  him. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  287 

_ "  Do  you  know  these  gentlemen,  Solomine,  and  what's 
his  name  ?  eh  ?  Neshdanof  ? "  asked  the  governor  of 
Markelof,  in  an  official,  somewhat  nasal  tone. 

"  And  you,  your  Excellency,  do  you  know  Confucius  and 
Livy." 

The  governor  turned  his  back  on  him. 

"  It's  impossible  to  talk  with  that  man,"  he  said,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders.  "  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  come 
here  a  moment,  baron  ?  " 

The  aide-de-camp  went  up  to  him,  and  Pakline  took  ad- 
vantage of  that  moment  to  hobble  up  toward  Sipiagin. 

"  What  are  you^  doing  ?"  he  stammered  ;  "  why  do  you 
ruin  your  niece  ?  You  know  very  well  she  is  with  him — 
with  Neshdanof." 

"  I  am  not  ruining  any  one,  my  dear  sir,"  answered 
Sipiagin  distinctly  ;  "  I  am  obeying  my  conscience 
and — " 

"  Your  wife,  my  sister,  who  has  you  under  her  thumb," 
said  Markelof,  finishing  the  sentence  in  the  same  tone. 

Sipiagin  did  not  frown  ;  all  that  was  so  much  below  him. 

"  Listen,"  said  Pakline,  in  the  same  broken  voice  ;  his 
whole  body  was  quivering  with  emotion,  and  possibly  fear  ; 
his  eyes  were  glowing  with  wrath,  his  throat  was  swollen 
with  tears — tears  of  pity  for  them,  of  anger  with  himself. 
"  Listen  to  me  :  I  told  you  she  was  married  ;  that  is  not 
true,  I  deceived  you  ;  but  they  ought  to  be  married,  and  if 
you  prevent  it,  if  the  police  capture  them,  you  will  have  on 
your  conscience  a  stain  which  nothing  can  ever  wash  off, 
and  you — " 

"  The  information  you  give,"  interrupted  Sipiagin,  rais- 
ing his  voice  still  higher,  "  provided  it  is  true,  which  I  have 
the  right  of  doubting,  can  only  hasten  the  steps  I  have 
thought  it  necessary  to  take  ;  as  for  the  purity  of  my  con- 
science, I  beg  of  you,  my  dear  sir,  not  to  make  yourself  un- 
easy about  it." 

"  His  conscience,  my  friend  !  it's  varnished,"  broke  in 
Markelof  again  ;  "  they've  covered  it  with  Petersburg  lack- 
er ;  nothing  can  take  hold  of  it.  As  for  you,  Mr.  Pakline, 
you  can  lie  as  much  as  you  please,  you'll  never  lie  out  of 
this." 


2S8  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

The  governor  thought  it  his  duty  to  put  a  stop  to  all 
these  remarks. 

"  I  think,  gentlemen,  that  you  have  made  it  perfectly 
clear;  that  is  why,  baron,  I  must  ask  you  to  show  Mr. 
Markelof  back  again.  There's  nothing  more  needed,  Boris? " 

Sipiagin  opened  his  arms. 

"  I  have  said  all  I  could." 

"Very  well,  dear  baron." 

The  adjutant  went  up  to  Markelof,  rattled  his  spurs 
against  each  other,  and  with  his  right  hand  described  a 
short,  horizontal  line,  which  meant  "  If  you  please,  march." 
Markelof  turned  and  left  the  room.  Pakline,  in  imagina- 
tion, pressed  his  hand  with  a  feeling  of  sad  sympatliy  and 
pity. 

"  And  now  we  are  going  to  set  our  men  on  the  mill," 
resumed  the  governor.  "  Only  listen  :  Boris,  it  seems  to  me 
that  this  gentleman,"  pointing  to  Pakline  with  a  turn  of  his 
chin,  "  told  you  something  about  your  niece — that  she  was 
there  at  the  factory  ;  and  in  that  case —  " 

"  She  must  not  be  interrupted  under  any  circumstances," 
answered  Sipiagin  thoughtfully  ;  "  she  may  think  it  over 
and  decide  to  return.  With  your  permission  I  will  write 
her  a  line." 

"  Do.  But  you  can  rest  easy.  We'll  lock  the 
fellow  up  ;  we  are  polite  to  the  ladies,  and  of  course  to 
her." 

"  But  you  haven't  settled  about  this  Solomine,"  cried  in  an 
aggrieved  voice  Kallomei'tsef,  who  had  been  listening,  dur- 
ing this  private  talk,  to  pick  up  a  few  scraps.  *'  I  assure  you 
he's  the  leader  of  the  whole  thing.  In  these  matters  I 
assure  you  I  have  a  sure  scent." 

"  Pas  trop  de  zele,  my  dear  Simeon  Petrovitch,"  answered 
the  governor  smiling.  "  Remember  Talleyrand.  If  he 
had  anything  to  do  with  it  he  won't  get  off.  But  you'd 
better  think  about  your  " — here  the  governor  imitated  the 
gasp  of  a  choking  man — "  your  debtor.  By  the  way,"  he 
went  on,  turning  to  Sipiagin,  "  et  ce  gaillard  la,  "  point- 
ing again  at  Pakline  with  his  chin,  "what  shall  we  do 
with  him  ?     He  doesn't  look  very  dangerous." 

"  Let  him  go,"  said  Sipiagin,  very  low  ;  and  he  added  in 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  289 

German,  "Lass  den  Lutnpen  laufen,"*  fancying — no  one 
knows  why — that  he  was  quoting  from  Goethe's  Goeiz  von 
Berlichingen. 

"  You  can  go,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  governor  aloud. 
"  We  have  no  further  need  of  you.  To  the  pleasure  of  our 
next  meeting  !  " 

Pakline  made  a  bow  to  them  all  collectively,  and  went 
out  humiliated,  crushed.  Good  God !  good  God !  this 
contempt  was  the  last  stroke. 

"  What !  "  he  thought,  in  utter  despair  ;  "  coward  and  in- 
former !  But  no,  no  !  I'm  an  honest  man,  gentlemen,  and 
I'm  not  so  void  of  courage." 

But  whose  is  that  familiar  face  there  on  the  steps  of  the 
governor's  house,  looking  at  him  so  sadly  and  reproach- 
fully ?  It's — it's  Markelof's  old  servant.  He  came  to 
town  evidently  to  follow  his  master,  and  he  doesn't  leave 
the  threshold  of  the  prison.  But  why  does  he  look  at 
Pakline  in  tliat  way  ?     He  didn't  betray  Markelof. 

"  Why  did  I  interfere  where  I  had  no  business  ?  "  said 
Pakline  to  himself,  relapsing  into  his  gloomy  revery.  "  Why 
didn't  I  stay  quietly  behind  my  counter  ?  And  now  every- 
body says — and  perhaps  they'll  put  it  in  print — '  A  certain 
Mr.  Pakline  told  everything  and  betrayed  all ;  he  betrayed 
his  friends  to  their  enemies.'  "  He  then  recalled  the  look 
Markelof  had  given  him  and  that  terrible  "  You'll  never  lie 
out  of  it,"  and  the  sad,  dejected  eyes  of  the  old  man  ;  and, 
like  St.  Peter  in  the  gospel,  "  he  wept  bitterly,"  and  turned 
slowly  to  the  oasis,  to  Fomoushka,  Firaoushka,  and  Snan- 
doulia. 

*  Let  the  fellow  go, 
19 


XXXVI. 

1'^HAT  morning  when  Marianne  left  her  room,  she  found 
Neshdanof  dressed  and  seated  on  the  sofa.  He  was 
supporting  his  head  with  one  hand,  the  other  hand  lay 
limp  and  motionless  on  his  knees. 

She  drew  near  him. 

"  Good  morning,  Alexis — you  did  not  undress  yourself? 
You  have  not  slept  ?     How  pale  you  are  !  " 

Neshdanofs  heavy  eyelids  were  slowly  raised. 

"I  did  not  undress  myself,  I  have  not  slept." 

"Are  you  sick,  or  is  it  merely  the  consequence  of  yes- 
terday ? " 

Neshdanof  shook  his  head. 

"I  have  not  slept  since  the  time  when  Solomine  went 
into  your  chamber  !  " 

"When  was  that.?" 

"Yesterday  evening." 

"Alexis,  you  are  jealous!     What  an  idea  I     You  have' 
chosen  your  time  well  !      He  hardly  stayed  with  me  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour.      We  were  speaking  of  his  cousin  the  priest, 
and  of  the  arrangements  to  make  for  our  wedding." 

"I  know  that  he  only  remained  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ;  I 
saw  him  come  out — and  I  am  not  jealous,  oh,  no  !  But 
since  that  moment  I  have  not  been  able  to  sleep." 

"Why,  then.?" 

Neshdanof  kept  silent. 

"I  have  been  thinking — thinking — thinking — "said  he 
at  length. 

"About  what.?" 

"About  you — him — and  myself." 

"And  what  conclusion  did  you  come  to  ?" 

"  Must  I  tell  you,  Marianne?  " 

"Tell  me,  I  beg  of  you." 

290 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


291 


"I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  I  am  an  incumbrance, 
to  you,  to  him,  and  to  myself." 

"  To  me  !  to  him  !  I  can  guess  what  you  imply  in  say- 
ing that,  although  you  assert  that  you  are  not  jealous.  But 
for  yourself?  " 

"  Marianne,  there  are  two  men  in  me,  one  of  whom  in- 
terferes with  the  other's  life.  That  is  why  I  say  that  both 
would  do  better  to  come  to  an  end. " 

"Come,  come,  Alexis,  I  beg  you.  What  an  idea  to  tor- 
ment j'ourself  thus,  and  me  as  well  as  yourself!  What  we 
have  to  do  now  is  to  find  out  what  measures  we  ought  to 
take.     You  know  tery  well  that  they  will  not  let  us  alone." 

Neshdan of  gently  grasped  her  arm. 

*'Sit  down  by  me,  INIarianne,  and  let  us  talk  a  little,  like 
friends,  while  we  yet  have  time.  Give  me  your  hand.  It 
seems  to  me  that  we  had  better  come  to  an  explanation, 
although  they  say  that  explanations  only  complicate  mat- 
ters. But  you  are  intelligent  and  good  ;  you  will  under- 
stand it  all,  or  will  guess  at  what  I  do  not  make  clear.  Sit 
down." 

Neshdanof's  voice  was  very  calm,  and  in  his  eyes,  which 
never  left  ]Marianne,  was  to  be  read  a  singular  expression  of 
friendly  tenderness,  mingled  with  entreaty. 

Marianne  readily  sat  down  by  his  side  and  took  his  hand. 

"Thank  you,  dearest.  Listen  to  me — I  will  not  keep 
you  long :  I  have  already  thought  over  in  my  mind  last 
night  what  I  have  to  say  to  )-ou.  Listen,  do  not  think  that 
I  have  been  very  much  troubled  by  what  happened  yester- 
day :  it  is  probable  that  I  must  have  been  ridiculous,  and 
even  somewhat  disgusting  ;  but  you,  I  need  not  say,  you 
never  thought  anything  ill  or  degrading  of  me — you  know 
me — I  have  just  said  that  what  happened  yesterday  did  not 
trouble  me  :  that  is  not  quite  true — it  is  false.  I  have  been 
much  troubled  by  it — not  because  I  was  brought  home 
drunk,  but  because  I  found  in  it  the  absolute,  complete 
proof  of  my  bankruptcy,  of  my  powerlessness  !  and  I  don't 
mean  on  account  of  my  inability  to  drink  like  a  Russian 
peasant — I  mean  because  of  my  character  itself,  as  a 
whole  !  Marianne,  I  must  confess  it  to  you.  I  do  not 
believe  in  the  work  which  has  united  us,  in  the  work,  in 


292  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

the  name  of  which  we  fled  together,  and  toward  which,  1 
owe  it  to  you  to  tell  you,  I  had  already  cooled  when  the 
light  of  your  faith  warmed  and  kindled  mine  anew.  I  no 
longer  believe,  I  no  longer  believe  !  " 

He  covered  his  eyes  with  the  hand  that  was  free,  and  was 
silent  a  moment.  Marianne  was  also  silent,  she  bent  her 
head,  she  felt  that  he  was  telling  her  nothing  new. 

"I  at  first  imagined,"  resumed  Neshdanof  uncovering 
his  eyes,  but  no  longer  looking  at  the  young  girl,  "that  I 
believed  in  the  work  itself,  and  only  doubted  myself;  my 
strength,  my  experience,  my  ability,  I  thought,  does  not 
correspond  with  my  conviction  ;  but  now  it  is  clear  to  me 
that  the  two  things  go  hand  in  hand,  and  then  what  is  the 
good  of  deceiving  myself.?  No,  it  is  that  I  no  longer  be- 
lieve in  the  work  itself.  And  you,  do  you  believe  in  it, 
Marianne  ?  " 

Marianne  drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height  and  raised 
her  head. 

"  Yes,  Alexis,"  said  she  ;  "I  believe  in  it.  I  believe  in 
it  with  all  the  strength  of  my  soal,  and  I  will  devote  my 
whole  life,  to  my  last  breath,  to  this  work  !  " 

Neshdanof  turned  toward  her  with  a  look  that  betrayed 
both  emotion  and  envy. 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  that  is  just  what  I  expected  you  to  say  ;  you 
see  very  well  now  that  we  do  not  belong  together,  you  your- 
self have  broken  the  tie  between  us." 

Marianne  remained  silent. 

"There  is  Solomine,  for  instance,"  resumed  Neshdanof. 
"  Solomine  does  not  believe." 

"What.?" 

"No,  he  does  not  believe  either,  but  he  does  not  need 
to  :  he  goes  tranquilly  forward.  A  man  who  is  following  a 
road  to  go  to  a  town  does  not  ask  himself  if  this  town  really 
exists.  He  walks  along,  and  that  is  all.  That  is  what 
Solomine  does,  and  he  requires  nothing  more.  As  for  me 
I  cannot  go  forward,  I  will  not  go  back,  and  standing  still 
in  the  same  place  kills  me.  Now  can  I  ask  any  one  to  share 
my  lot .?  You  know  the  proverb,  Let  each  one  carry  his  end 
of  the  burden,  and  all  will  go  well  !  But  if  one  of  the  two 
lacks  strength  to  lift  his  end,  what  can  the  other  do  .?  " 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  293 

"Alexis,"  said  Marianne  hesitatingly,  "it  seems  tome 
that  you  exaggerate.     In  short,  we  love  each  other." 

Neshdanof  sighed  deeply. 

"  Marianne,  I  revere  you  and  you  pity  me,  and  each  of 
us  is  convinced  of  the  other's  good  faith  :  that  is  the  real 
truth.     As  for  love,  there  is  none  between  us." 

"Come,  come,  Alexis,  what  are  you  saying?  Have  you 
forgotten  that  to-day  the  pursuit  begins,  and  that  we  must 
fly  together,  and  never  part  more  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  go  and  be  married  by  the  priest  Zossime,  as 
Solomine  proposed.  I  know  very  well  that  this  marriage 
is  nothing,  in  your  eyes,  but  a  passport,  a  means  of  escaping 
the  troubles  with  which  we  are  threatened  by  the  police. 
But,  in  fact,  up  to  a  certain  point,  it  would  oblige  us  to  a 
common  life,  side  by  side  ;  or,  if  it  did  not  oblige  us  to 
this,  it  would  at  least  presuppose  in  us  a  desire  to  live 
together." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Alexis  }     You  will  stay  here  then  ?  " 

Neshdanof  was  upon  the  point  of  saying  yes,  but  he  con- 
sidered, and  replied  : 

"No— no." 

"Then  you  will  not  go  where  I  do  on  leaving  here  ?  " 

Neshdanof  pressed  strongly  the  hand  which  she  had  left  in 
his. 

"It  would  be  a  sin  to  leave  you  without  a  defender  and 
protector,  and  I  will  not  do  that,  however  weak  I  may  be. 
You  shall  have  a  protector,  do  not  doubt  it." 

Marianne  leaned  toward  Neshdanof,  and  looked  him 
full  in  the  face  with  anxiety  and  solicitude,  trying  to  look 
through  his  eyes  into  his  soul,  to  the  very  bottom  of  his 
soul. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Alexis .?  You  have  some- 
thing on  your  mind.  Tell  me  what  it  is.  You  alarm  me. 
Your  words  are  so  strange,  so  enigmatical.  And  what  an 
expression  you  have  !  I  have  never  before  seen  you  look 
like  this  ! " 

Neshdanof  gently  pushed  her  from  him,  and  sofdy  kissed 
her  hand.  This  time  she  neither  resisted  nor  smiled.  She 
continued  to  look  at  him  anxiously. 

"  Don't  be  troubled,  I  beg  of  you.     There  is  nothing 


2c)4  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Strange  in  this.  This  is  all  that's  wrong  :  Markelof,  I  under- 
stand has  been  beaten  by  the  peasants.  He  has  felt  their 
fists  ;  they  have  bruised  his  body.  Me  they  have  not  beaten, 
they  have  even  drunk  to  my  health  with  me.  But  they 
have  bruised  my  soul  even  more  than  INIarkelof's  body.  I 
was  out  of  place  with  my  circumstances  ;  I  tried  to  put  my- 
self right  again,  but  only  succeeded  in  getting  myself  more 
out  of  place.     That  is  precisely  what  you  read  on  my  face." 

"Alexis,"  she  said  slowly,  "this  would  be  very  bad  if 
you  were  not  sincere  with  me." 

He  wrung  his  hands. 

"  Marianne,  my  whole  being  is  laid  bare  before  you,  and 
whatever  I  do,  I  warn  you  of  it  beforehand,  so  that  at  the 
bottom  of  your  heart  you  won't  be  really  surprised  at  any- 
thing." 

Marianne  longed  to  ask  him  for  an  explanation  of  these 
words,  but  did  not — the  more  that  at  this  moment  Solo- 
mine  entered  the  room. 

His  movements  were  quicker  and  more  nervous  than 
usual.  Flis  eyes  ^vere  cast  down,  his  large  lips  were  con- 
tracted, his  whole  face  seemed  to  have  grown  thinner,  and 
to  have  assumed  a  dry,  hard,  almost  imperious  expression. 

"  Friends,"  he  said,  "  I  come  to  warn  you  that  there  is 
no  time  to  be  lost.  Get  ready — it  is  time  to  start.  You 
must  be  ready  in  an  hour.  You  must  go  and  be  married. 
We  have  no  news  from  Pakline  ;  they  first  kept  his  horses 
at  Arjanoie,  and  then  sent  them  back.  He  remained  there. 
Probably  they  took  him  to  town.  He  will  not  mean  to  in- 
form about  you,  of  course,  but  who  knows  !  His  tongue 
may  have  run  away  with  him.  And  then  they  would  rec- 
ognize my  horses.  My  cousin  has  been  told  to  expect 
you.  Paul  will  accompany  you.  He  will  serve  for  your 
witness." 

"And  you — and  'thou?'"*  Neshdanof  asked  him, 
"You  are  not  going  then  ?  I  see  you  are  in  traveling  rig," 
he  added,  pointing  to  the  long  cavalry  boots  which  Solo- 
mine  had  on. 

"  No,  no.     These  are  on  account  of  the  mud." 

*  Neshdanof  calls  him  "  thou  "  from  this  time  forth. —  TV. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  295 

"But  if  they  make  you  suffer  for  us  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  they  will — at  any  rate  that  is  my  affair. 
In  one  hour  then,  Marianne,  Tatiana  wants  to  see  you. 
She  has  got  something  ready  for  you." 

"  Oh  !  yes,  in  a  moment.     I  was  just  going  to  her." 

IMarianne  went  toward  the  door. 

Neshdanofs  face  bore  a  strange  expression  of  mingled 
fright  and  anguish. 

' '  Are  you  going,  Marianne  1 "  said  he,  with  suddenly 
failing  voice. 

She  stopped. 

"  I  shall  be  back  iiT  half  an  hour.  I  must  have  a  little 
time  to  get  ready  in." 

"Yes  ;  iDut  come  here." 

"I  will  ;  but  why.?" 

"  I  want  to  look  at  you  once  more."  He  looked  at  her 
for  a  long  time.  "  Good-by,  good-by,  Marianne!"  She 
seemed  surprised.  "You  are  wondering  what  is  the  mat- 
ter with  me — it  is  nothing — don't  notice  it.  You  are  com- 
ing back  in  half  an  hour,  ain't  you  .?  yes  }  " 

"  Certainly." 

"Yes — yes — excuse  me.  My  head  is  stupid  from  want 
of  sleep.  You  know  I  was  awake  all  night.  I  shall  also 
be  ready — soon." 

Marianne  left  the  room.  Solomine  was  going  to  follow 
her,  when  Neshdanof  stopped  him. 

"Solomine  1" 

"'What.?" 

"  Give  me  your  hand.  I  must  thank  you  for  your  hos- 
pitality." 

Solomine  barely  smiled.      "What  an  idea  1 " 

He  gave  him  his  hand,  however. 

"And  listen,"  continued  Neshdanof;  "  if  anything  hap- 
pens to  me  I  may  count  on  you,  I  may  feel  sure  that  you 
will  look  out  for  Marianne?" 

"  Your  future  wife  .?  " 

"Yes,  Marianne." 

"I  am  sure,  in  the  first  place,  that  nothing  will  happen 
to  you  ;  and  besides,  you  may  feel  perfectly  easy.  Marianne 
is  as  dear  to  me  as  to  you  yourself." 


296  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

"  Oh  !  I  know  it,  I  know  it,  I  know  it.  All  right  I  and 
thank  you  !     In  an  hour  then  ?  " 

"In  an  hour." 

"I  will  be  ready.      Good-by." 

Solomine  went  out  and  overtook  Marianne  on  the  stair- 
case. He  meant  to  speak  to  her  about  Neshdanof,  but  he 
said  nothing,  and  Marianne  saw  that  he  had  something  to 
say  to  her  about  Neshdanof,  but  did  not  say  it.  And  she 
also  said  nothing. 


XXXVII. 

HARDLY  had  Solomine  left  the  room  when  Neshdanof 
sprang  up  from  the  sofa  ;  he  went  twice  round  the 
room,  then  stopped  short  for  a  minute,  as  if  lost  in  thought ; 
then  he  suddenly  shook  himself  and  took  off  his  "mas- 
querading" dress  which  he  kicked  into  the  corner;  he 
fetched  and  put  on  his  former  clothes. 

Then  he  went  up  to  the  three-legged  table  and  took  from 
the  drawer  two  sealed  envelopes,  and  a  small  object  which 
he  thrust  into  his  pocket  ;  the  envelopes  remained  on  the 
table. 

He  then  leaned  down,  and  opened  the  door  of  the  stove. 
The  stove  contained  a  heap  of  ashes.  This  was  all  that 
was  left  of  Neshdanof 's  papers  and  private  book  of  verses. 
He  had  burned  them  all  during  the  night.  But  in  this 
same  stove,  leaning  against  one  of  the  walls,  was  the  por- 
trait of  ]\Iarianne,  Markelof's  gift.  Evidently,  Neshdanof 
had  not  had  the  courage  to  burn  this  portrait  with  the  rest. 

He  took  it  out  carefully,  and  put  it  on  the  table  by  the 
side  of  the  sealed  papers. 

Then,  with  a  vigorous  movement,  he  seized  his  cap  and 
started  for  the  door.  But  he  stopped,  came  back,  and  went 
into  INIarianne's  chamber. 

After  standing  motionless  for  a  moment,  he  cast  a  look 
about  him,  and  approaching  the  young  girl's  little  bed,  he 
placed  his  lips,  with  one  suppressed  sob,  not  on  the  pillow, 
but  on  the  foot  of  the  bed.  ' 

Then  he  stood  up  straight,  drew  his  cap  down  over  his 
forehead,  and  flung  himself  from  the  room.  Without 
meeting  any  one  either  in  the  entry  or  on  the  staircase  or 
down  below,  he  slipped  out  into  the  little  enclosure. 

The  day  was  cloudy,  the  sky  lowering  ;  a  little  damp 
breeze  bent  the  tops  of  the  grass-blades  and  gently  waved 

297 


298  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

the  leaves  on  the  trees.  The  mill  made  less  noise  than 
usual  at  this  hour  ;  an  odor  of  charcoal,  of  tar,  and  of  soot 
came  from  the  yard. 

Neshdanof  cast  around  him  a  scrutinizing,  distruslful 
glance,  then  he  walked  up  to  the  old  apple-tree  which  had 
attracted  his  attention  on  the  day  of  his  arrival,  when  he 
first  looked  out  of  his  chamber  window. 

The  trunk  of  this  apple-tree  was  covered  with  dry  moss  ; 
its  bare  and  knotty  branches,  with  but  a  few  little  green  and 
brown  leaves  stuck  on  here  and  there,  raised  themselves 
crookedly  toward  the  heavens,  like  the  supplicant  arms  of 
an  old  man,  with  bent  elbows. 

Neshdanof  stood  firmly  on  the  dark  earth  which  sur- 
rounded the  foot  of  the  apple-tree,  and  drew  from  his  pocket 
the  small  object  which  he  had  previously  taken  from  the 
table  drawer.  Then  he  looked  attentively  at  the  windows 
of  the  little  house. 

"If  some  one  were  to  see  me  at  this  moment,"  he 
thought,  "perhaps  I  should  put  off — " 

But  nowhere  was  a  human  face  to  be  seen.  Every  thing 
seemed  dead,  every  thing  turned  itself  away  from  him  ; 
drawing  itself  away  from  him  forever,  leaving  him  alone  to 
the  mercy  of  Fate.  Only  the  factory  was  giving  forth  its 
rank  odor,  its  dull  uproar  ;  and  a  gentle  rain  began  to  fall 
in  fine  drops. 

Then  Neshdanof  looked  up,  through  the  twisted  branches 
of  the  tree  beneath  which  he  was  standing,  at  the  grey, 
heavy,  wet,  indifferent,  blind  sky  ;  he  gaped,  stretched  his 
arms,  said  to  himself  "  After  all,  there  is  nothing  else  to  be 
done;  I  cannot  return  to  Petersburg,  to  prison."  He 
threw  aside  his  cap,  then  feeling  as  beforehand,  a  sort  of 
strange  agonizing,  but  not  wholly  unpleasant,  tension  of  the 
nerves.  He  put  the  mouth  of  the  revolver  against  his 
breast,  and  pulled  the  trigger. 

He  felt  a  shock,  not  a  very  hard  one,  and  he  is  stretched 
upon  his  back  ;  and  he  tries  to  understand  what  has  hap- 
pened to  him,  and  how  it  is  that  he  has  just  seen  Tatiana. 
He  even  wishes  to  say,  "ah!  there  is  no  need!"  But 
already  he  is  stiff  and  mute.  A  whirlwind  of  green  smoke 
rushes  into  his  eyes,  over  his  face,  over  his  forehead,  into 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


299 


his  brain,  and  a  horrible  weight  crushes  him  forever  to  the 
ground. 

Neshdanof  was  not  mistaken  in  supposing  he  saw  Tatiana  ; 
just  as  he  pulled  the  trigger,  she  came  to  one  of  the  win- 
dows of  the  little  house  and  descried  him  beneath  the  apple- 
tree. 

She  had  scarcely  time  to  ask  herself :  "  What  is  he  doing 
under  the  apple-tree  bareheaded,  in  such  weather  as 
this .''  "  when  she  saw  him  fall  over  backwards,  stiff  and 
heavy  as  a  sheaf  jof  wheat. 

Although  she  had  not  heard  the  rather  weak  report  of  the 
pistol,  she  felt  at  once  that  something  tragic  had  happened, 
and  rushed  out  to  the  enclosure,  and  ran  up  to  Neshdanof. 

' '  Alexis  Dimitrich  what  is  the  matter  }  " 

But  darkness  had  already  filled  his  being.  She  bent  over 
him  and  saw  blood. 

"  Paul  !  "  she  cried  in  an  altered  voice,   "  Paul  !  " 

A  few  moments  later,  Marianne,  Solomine,  Paul  and 
two  of  the  factory  workmen  were  in  the  enclosure.  Nesh- 
danof was  soon  raised,  carried  into  the  chamber,  and  placed 
on  the  sofa  where  he  had  spent  the  previous  night. 

He  was  laid  on  his  back,  his  half-closed  eyes  remained 
fixed,  his  face  was  lead  colored  ;  he  breathed  slowly  and 
laboriously,  catching  each  breath  like  a  child  tired  out 
with  weeping.      Life  had  not  yet  left  his  body. 

Marianne  and  Solomine,  standing  on  each  side  of  the 
coucii,  were  almost  as  pale  as  Neshdanof  himself  They 
were  both  of  them  startled,  stunned,  crushed — especially 
INIarianne — but  they  were  not  surprised. 

' '  Why  did  we  not  foresee  this  .?  "  they  thought,  but  at  the 
same  time  it  seemed  to  them — ^yes,  it  seemed  to  them  as  if 
they  had  foreseen  it. 

When  he  said  to  Marianne:  "Whatever  I  do,  I  warn 
you  of  it  beforehand,  you  will  not  be  surprised."  And 
again — when  he  had  spoken  of  the  two  men  who  existed  in 
him,  but  who  could  not  live  together — was  not  a  presenti- 
ment aroused  in  her.?  Why  did  she  not  stop  at  that  mo- 
ment and  reflect  upon  these  words  and  this  presentiment? 
And  why  now  did  she  dread  looking  at  Solomine,  as  if  he 
were  her  accomplice,  and  like  her,  suffered  remorse?     Why 


300  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

was  the  feeling  of  infinite  pity,  of  desperate  regret,  with 
which  Neshdanof  inspired  her,  mingled  a  sort  of  terror,  of 
shame?  Might  she,  perhaps,  have  saved  him?  Why  did 
they  neither  of  them  have  courage  to  utter  a  word  ?  They 
hardly  dared  breathe  ;  they  waited — what  were  they  waiting 
for  ?     Great  God  ! 

Solomine  had  sent  for  a  surgeon,  although  there  was  evi- 
dently no  hope.  Titiana  had  put  a  large  sponge  filled  with 
fresh  water  upon  the  wound,  which  was  small,  black,  and 
had  already  stopped  bleeding  ;  she  also  moistened  his  fore- 
head with    cold  water   and   vinegar. 

Suddenly  Neshdanof  ceased  choking  and  made  a  slight 
movement. 

"  He  is  coming  to  himself,"  murmured  Solomine. 

Marianne  knelt  down  by  the  side  of  the  sofa.  Neshda- 
nof looked  at  her.  Up  to  this  moment  his  eyes  had  been 
fixed  like  those  of  a  dying  person. 

"Ah  I  I  am  still  alive,"  said  he  with  a  hardly  perceptible 
voice.     ' '  Unsuccessful  now  as  ever  !     I  detain  you." 

"Alexis  !  "  cried  Marianne. 

"But  soon — you  remember,  Marianne,  in  my — poetry — • 
Surround  me  with  flowers. — Where  are  the  flowers?  But 
you  are  there,  you — my  letter — " 

He  shivered  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Oh  !  there  it  is. — Give — each  other  your  hands — before 
me.     Quick  I — Give — " 

Solomine  seized  the  hand  of  Marianne,  who  had  buried 
her  head  in  the  sofa,  her  face  close  beside  the  wound. 

As  for  Solomine,  he  was  standing,  rigid,  black   as  night. 

"  So.— That's  right.— So." 

Neshdanof  began  to  gasp  again,  but  this  time  in  a  differ- 
ent way.  His  chest  rose  and  the  lower  part  of  his  body 
contracted.  He  made  evident  eff"orts  to  place  his  hand  on 
their  clasped  hands  ;  but  his  were  already  dead. 

"He  is  going,"  murmured  Tatiana,  who  was  standing 
near  the  door." 

And  she  began  to  cross  herself 

The  sobbing  breaths  became  rarer,  shorter.  He  sought 
Marianne  with  his  look,  but  a  terrible  milky  whiteness  al- 
ready veiled  his  eyes. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  301 

"  Right,"  said  he.     This  was  his  last  word. 

He  no  longer  existed,  and  the  hands  of  Solomine  and 
Marianne  were  still  joined  across  his  breast. 

Here  are  the  contents  of  the  two  letters  which  he  left  be- 
hind him.  The  first  which  was  addressed  to  Siline,  con- 
sisted of  these  few  lines  : 

"  Good-by  !  my  brother,  my  friend,  good-by  !  When  you 
receive  this  bit  of  paper,  I  shall  be  no  longer  among  the 
living.  Do  not  ask  how  or  why  ;  and  do  not  pity  me,  be 
sure  that  it  is' better  so.  Take  our  immortal  Poushkin, 
and  read  over  again  the  description  of  the  death  of  Lenski, 
in  '  Eugene  Oneguine.l  You  remember  it ;  '  The  windows 
are  white-washed,  theTiostess  is  gone,  etc'  Nothing  more — 
I  shall  tell  you  nothing,  because  I  should  have  too  much  to 
tell  you  ;'  I  have  not  time  for  it.  But  I  could  not  go  with- 
out warning  you.  You  might  have  thought  me  still  alive, 
and  it  would  have  been  a  sin  on  my  part  toward  our  friend- 
ship. 

'*  Good-by  !  try  to  live.     Your  friend, 

"A.  N," 

The  other  letter,  which  was  somewhat  longer,  was  ad- 
dressed to  Solomine  and  to  Marianne  together.  Here  are 
its  contents  : 

"  My  Dear  Children  ! 

(After  these  words  there  was  an  interruption  ;  something 
was  scratched  out,  or  rather  effaced,  as  if  by  tears. ) 

"  It  will  perhaps  seem  strange  to  you  that  I  call  you  thus  ; 
I  am  little  more  than  a  child,  and  you,  Solomine,  I  know 
are  older  than  I  ;  but  I  am  about  to  die,  and,  at  the  end  of 
my  life,  I  seem  to  myself  an  old  man,  I  am  very  guilty 
toward  both  of  you,  particularly  toward  you,  Marianne,  for 
in  what  I  am  about  to  do,  I  shall  cause  you  much  sorrow 
(you  will  feel  it,  I  am  sure,  Marianne),  and  much  inconven- 
ience. But  what  could  I  do  .?  I  could  find  no  other  way 
out  of  it  all. 

"  I  could  not  learn  to  simplify  myself,  and  there  was  noth- 
ing left  for  me,  but  to  put  myself  out  of  the  way  entirely. 
Marianne,  I  should  have  been  a  burden  both  to  you  and  to 


302 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


m)'self ;  you  are  generous,  and  you  would  perhaps  have  joy- 
fully accepted  this  burden  as  a  new  sacrifice  ;  but  1  had  no 
right  to  impose  it  upon  you  ;  you  have  more  and  better 
things  to  do. 

'•  My  dear  children,  let  me  join  you  together  with  a  hand 
which  comes,  as  it  were,  from  beyond  the  grave. 

"  You  will  be  happy  with  one  another.     You,  Marianne, 
will  end  by  wholly  loving  Solomine  ;  and  as  for  him,  he  has 
loved  you  ever  since  the  day  when  he  first  saw  you  at  Sipia- 
gin's.     This  has  never  been  a  secret  from  me,  although  we 
ran  away  together  a  few  days  later. 

"  Oh,  that  morning  !  How  lovely,  and  fresh,  and  young 
it  was  !  It  seems  to  me  now  symbolic  of  your  double  life, 
of  yours  and  his  ;  and  it  was  a  mere  accident  that  I  was 
there  in  his  place  on  that  morning. 

"  But  I  must  stop.  I  do  not  mean  to  ask  for  your  pity, 
only  to  exculpate  myself.  To-morrow  there  will  be  some 
moments  that  will  be  hard  to  bear.  But  what  can  I  do  since 
there  is  no  other  way  out  ?  Farewell,  Marianne,  my  dear, 
honest  child  !  Farewell,  Solomine  !  I  confide  her  to  you. 
Live  happy  ;  live  for  the  good  of  others.  And  you,  Mari- 
anne, must  only  think  of  me  when  you  are  happy  ;  think 
of  me  as  of  a  man  who  was  honest  and  good,  too,  bat  to 
whom  it  was  more  becoming  to  die  than  to  live. 

"I  do  not  know  whether  I  was  in  love  with  you,  my  dear  ; 
but  I  know  that  I  have  never  felt  a  stronger  feeling,  and 
that  death  would  seem  to  me  yet  more  terrible,  if  I  did  not 
carry  with  me  into  my  grave  a  feeling  like  that. 

"Marianne,  if  you  ever  meet  with  a  person  named  Mash- 
urina — Solomine  knows  her,  and  besides,  you  have  seen  her 
too,  I  think — tell  her  that  I  thought  of  her  with  gratitude, 
a  short  time  before  my  death.  She  will  know  what  I 
mean. 

"  I  must  shorten  my  farewells,  however.  I  have  just  been 
looking  out  of  the  window.  A  bright  star  shone  steadfastly 
through  the  clouds  that  rushed  past  it.  But  no  matter  how 
swiftly  they  went,  they  could  not  hide  its  beams.  This  star 
made  me  think  of  you,  Marianne. 

"At  this  moment,  you  are  asleep  in  the  neighboring  cham- 
ber,— and  you  suspect  nothing.     I  drew  near  your  door  and 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  303 

listened,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  heard  your  quiet  breath- 
ing.    Farewell  !  farewell,  my  children,  my  friends  ! 

"Yours,  A." 

"Only  think  !  in  this  letter  written  at  the  very  moment 
when  I  am  about  to  die,  I  have  not  said  a  word  of  our 
great  work  !  That  is  doubtless  because  so  near  to  death  I 
cannot  lie.  Marianne,  forgive  me  this  postscript.  The 
falsehood  was  in  me  and  not  in  the  work  in  which  you 
believe. 

"  Oh  !  one  word  more.  You  will  perhaps  think  IMarianne 
that  I  feared  imprisonment — for  of  course  I  should  have 
been  arrested — and  tTiat  I  have  taken  this  mode  of  escaping 
it  ?  No^;  the  prison  is  not  such  a  great  affair  ;  but  to  be  in 
prison  for  the  sake  of  an  undertaking  in  which  one  did  not 
believe,  would  be  too  absurd.  If  I  make  away  with  myself, 
it  is  not  from  dread  of  a  prison. 

"  Farewell  !   Marianne  !   Farewell  !  " 

Marianne  and  Solomine,  read  one  after  the  other,  then 
she  put  both  letters  and  the  portrait  into  her  pocket,  and 
remained  motionless. 

Then  Solomine  said  to  her. 

"All  is  ready,  Marianne,  let  us  go — we  must  fulfill  his 
wishes." 

Marianne  approached  Neshdanof,  placed  her  lips  on  his 
already  cold  forehead,  and  turning  to  Solomine  said  : 

"Let  us  go." 

He  drew  her  arm  through  his,  and  they  both  left  the 
room  together. 


■'o^ 


Some  hours  later,  when  the  police  made  their  way  into 
the  factory,  they  found  Neshdanof,  indeed,  but  dead. 
Tatiana  had  carefully  arranged  his  bed,  she  had  put  a  white 
pillow  beneath  his  head;  she  had  crossed  his  hands  ;  she 
had  even  placed  some  flowers  by  his  side. 

Paul  who  had  received  all  the  necessary  instructions  gave 
the  police  a  most  respectful,  and  at  the  same  time  a  most 
ironical  reception  ;  so  that  they  did  not  know  whether  to 
thank  him  or  to  put  him  under  arrest. 

He  related  to  them  all  the  details  of  the  suicide,  he  gave 


304 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


them  Giiiyerc  cheese  to  eat  and  madeira  to  drink  ;  but  when 
they  asked  him  what  had  become  of  Solomine  and  the  young 
girl  who  had  been  staying  in  the  factory,  he  professed  the 
most  complete  ignorance  on  the  subject ;  he  contented 
himself  with  assuring  them  that  Solomine  never  stayed  away 
long,  on  account  of  the  business  ;  that  he  would  surely 
return  that  day  or  the  next ;  and  that  when  he  did  return 
he  would  let  them  know  at  the  town  at  once,  without  a 
moment's  delay.  They  could  be  sure  of  it  for  he  was  a 
punctual  man  ! 

So  that  the  gentlemen  returned  empty-handed,  having 
left  some  one  in  charge  of  the  body  and  promising  to  send 
a  magistrate. 


XXXVIII. 

Two  days  after  these  events,  a  man  and  a  young  woman, 
both  of  whom  are  well-known  to  us,  drove  into  the 
courtyard  of  good  Father  Zossime's  house,  and  on  the  mor- 
row they  were  married. 

A  few  days  afterwaM  they  went  away  again,  and  the  good 
Zossime  never  repented  what  he  had  done. 

When' he  left  the  mill,  Solomine  had  intrusted  to  Paul  a 
letter  directed  to  the  owner,  in  which  he  gave  a  complete 
and  accurate  statement  of  the  affairs  of  the  mill — which  were 
in  excellent  condition — and  he  asked  for  three  months' 
leave  of  absence.  It  had  been  written  two  days  before 
Neshdanofs  death,  whence  it  may  be  concluded  that  at  that 
time  Solomine  had  thought  it  necessary  to  go  off  with  him 
and  Marianne  and  to  keep  out  of  the  way  for  some  time. 

The  inquest  that  was  held  after  the  suicide  brought  noth- 
ing more  to  light.  The  body  was  buried,  Sipiagin  made 
no  further  effort  to  find  his  niece. 

Markelof  came  up  for  trial  nine  months  later.  His  hear- 
ing before  the  court  was  the  same  as  that  before  the  gover- 
nor ;  calm,  not  without  a  certain  dignity,  and  somewhat 
sad.  His  customary  stiffness  had  grown  softer ;  not  from 
weakness,  but  from  another  and  nobler  feeling.  He  made 
no  effort  toward  excusing  himself,  he  showed  no  sign  of  re- 
pentance, he  neither  accused  nor  named  anyone  else  ;  his 
gaunt  fiice  and  his  languid  eyes  wore  merely  an  expression 
of  resignation  and  firmness  ;  and  his  short,  but  frank  and 
concise  answers  awoke  even  in  the  judges  a  feeling  akin  to 
pity. 

The  peasants  who  had  arrested  him  and  who  were  the 
government  witnesses  also  felt  this  feeling,  and  they  spoke 
of  him  as  a  '  simple  '  and  kindly  bariJie. 

But  his  guilt  was  too  plain  ;  he  could  not  escape  punish^ 
20  305 


306  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

ment ;  besides  he  seemed  to  accept  it  as  a  very  natural  con- 
sequence. 

As  for  liis  few  accomplices,  Mashurina  hid  ;  Ostrodumof 
was  killed  by  a  citizen  to  whom  he  was  preachinjr  insurrec- 
tion, by  an  "  accidental"  blow  ;  Galouchkine,  thanks  to  his 
"sincere  repentance,"  was  sentenced  to  only  a  light  pun- 
ishment (he  nearly  went  mad  from  distress  and  terror)  ; 
Kisliakof  was  imprisoned  for  a  month  and  then  let  out,  but 
they  did  not  even  interfere  with  his  roaming  as  before 
through  all  the  governments  of  Russia  ;  Neshdanof  put 
himself  out  of  the  way  by  suicide  ;  Solomine — from  lack 
of  incriminating  evidence — was  suspected,  but  nothing  was 
done  about  him.  Besides,  he  did  not  avoid  trial  and  ap- 
pearance at  the  appointed  day.  No  allusion  was  made  to 
]\Iarianne  ;  Pakline  had  succeeded  in  getting  out  of  the 
scrape,  but  no  one  troubled  himself  about  the  poor  man. 


Eighteen  months  had  passed  ;  it  was  the  winter  of  1870, 
at  St.  Petersburg,  in  the  same  St.  Petersburg  in  which 
Privy  Counsellor  and  Chamberlain  Sipiagin  was  preparing 
to  play  a  prominent  part,  where  his  wife  was  patronizing  the 
arts,  giving  musical  parties  and  organizing  diet  kitchens, 
where  Mr.  Kallomei'tsef  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  most 
valuable  officials  in  his  department,  a  short  man  arrayed  in 
a  shabby  coat  with  a  cat-skin  collar,  was  limping  along  one 
of  the  streets  of  the  Vassili-Ostrof. 

It  was  Pakline.  He  had  changed  since  those  days  ;  a 
few  silver  lines  were  glistening  in  the  hair  which  hung  be- 
low his  fur  lined  cap. 

A  tall  and  somewhat  stout  lady,  closely  wrapped  in  a 
cloak  of  dark  cloth,  was  coming  along  the  sidewalk  toward 
him. 

He  glanced  at  her  carelessly  and  passed  by  her  ;  then  he 
suddenly  stopped,  thought  for  a  moment,  stretched  out  his 
arms,  and  then,  turning  suddenly,  he  caught  up  with  her 
and  stared  at  her. 

"  Mashurina  '^.  "  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

The  lady  gave  him  a  haughty  look  and  passed  on  without 
a  word. 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  307 

*'  INIy  dear  IMashurina,  I  have  recognized  you,"  continued 
Pakline,  limping  along  by  her  side  ;  but  don't  be  alarmed, 
I  beg  of  you.  You  can  be  sure  that  I  shan't  betray  you  ! 
I  am  so  glad  to  have  met  you  !  I  am  Pakline,  Sila  Pakline, 
you  remember  ;  Neshdanof's  friend.  Come  to  where  1  live  ; 
it's  a  stone's  throw  from  here.     Do  come  !  " 

"  lo  sono  coniessa  Rocca,  and — and — e  ancora!"  answered 
the  lady  with  a  serious  voice,  but  with  a  very  pronounced 
Russian  accent. 

"  Countess  what  ?  How  have  you  got  to  be  a  countess? 
Come  with  me,  we  will  have  a  tallc." 

"But  where  do»you  live?"  asked  the  Italian  countess 
suddenly,  "I'm  in  a  hurry." 

"  I  live  in  this  street ;  there's  my  house  ;  do  you  see  a 
gray,  three-storied  house?  How  kind  of  you  not  to  try  to 
conceal  yourself  any  longer.  Give  me  your  arm!  Have 
you  been  here  long  ?  And  how  are  you  a  countess  ?  Have 
you  married  some  Italian  count  ?  " 

Mashurina  had  not  married  any  Italian  count  ;  but  when 
she  was  in  foreign  parts  they  had  given  her  a  passport  which 
had  belonged  to  a  certain  Countess  Rocca  di  Santo  Fiumt. 
who  had  died  a  short  time  before  ;  and,  provided  with  this, 
she  had  calmly  gone  back  to  Russia,  although  she  did  not 
understand  a  word  of  Italian,  and  was  of  a  very  markedly 
Russian  type. 

Pakline  led  the  way  to  his  modest  dwelling.  His  de- 
formed sister,  Snandoulia,  with  whom  he  kept  house,  came 
out  to  meet  them  from  behind  the  partition  which  separated 
the  small  ante-chamber  from  the  still  smaller  kitchen. 

"  Here,  Snandoulia,"  said  he,  "I  commend  this  lady  to 
your  good  graces,  she  is  a  great  friend  of  mine  ;  let  us  have 
some  tea  right  away." 

Mashurina,  who  would  never  have  accepted  Pakline's  in- 
vitation if  he  had  not  spoken  of  Neshdanof,  took  off  her 
hat,  smoothed  with  her  hand  her  hair,  which  was  cut  short 
as  of  old,  bowed,  and  seated  herself  without  a  word. 

She  was  not  at  all  changed  ;  her  dress  even  was  the  same 
she  had  worn  two  years  before.  But  an  unshaken  sad- 
ness dwelt  continually  in  her  eyes,  and  this  sadness  gave  a 
touching  expression  to  her  naturally  rough  face. 


3o8  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

Snandoulia  hastened  to  get  the  samovar  ;  Pakline  seated 
himself  in  front  of  INIashurina,  tapped  her  on  the  knee  with 
a  friendly  gesture,  bent  his  head  and  tried  to  speak  ;  but 
was  first  obliged  to  clear  his  throat,  for  his  voice  failed  him, 
and  tears  shone  in  his  little  eyes.  Mashurina  sat  motionless, 
with  her  body  upright,  without  leaning  back  in  her  chair, 
'and  looked  askance  with  a  morose  expression, 

"Oh!"  said  Pakline  at  last,  "how  many  things  have 
happened  !  I  look  at  you  and  recall  many  things  and 
many  people,  some  living  and  some  dead.  ]\Iy  two  little 
love-birds  are  dead  also  ;  but  you  did  not  know  them,  I 
think  ;  and  both,  as  I  said  they  would,  went  the  very  same 
day.  And  Neshdanof — poor  Neshdanof !  You  no  doubt 
know — " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  replied  Mashurina,  still  looking  askance. 

"And  Ostrodumof? — you  know,  too,  what  happened  to 
him  ? " 

Mashurina  nodded  her  head.  She  wished  he  would  con- 
tinue speaking  of  Neshdanof,  but  she  dared  not  ask  him  to. 
He  understood  it,  however. 

"  I  heard  that  in  the  letter  which  he  wrote  just  before  his 
death  he  spoke  of  you.     Is  that  true  1 " 

"  It  is  true,"  she  said  at  length. 

"What  an  excellent  fellow  he  was  I  But  he  was  wholly 
out  of  place  !  He  was  no  more  a  revolutionist  than  I  ! 
Do  you  know  what  he  really  was .? — a  romantic  realist  ! 
You  understand  me." 

Mashurina  cast  a  quick  glance  at  Pakline.  She  did 
not  understand  or  try  to  understand  him.  She  then 
thought  it  strange  and  uncalled  for  that  he  should  dare  to 
compare  himself  with  Neshdanof;  but  she  said  to  herself, 
"  Bah  !   let  him  boast,  what  harm  does  it  do  !  " 

In  reality  he  was  not  boasting  at  all,  he  intended  rather 
to  lower  himself  by  the  comparison. 

"  I  had  a  visit  from  a  certain  Siline,"  continued  Pakline  ; 
"  Neshdanof  had  also  written  to  him  before  he  died.  This  Si- 
line  asked  me  if  it  would  not  be  possible  to  find  some  papers 
w'hich  the  dead  man  had  left  behind  him.  But  all  Alexis' 
effects  had  been  put  under  seal,  and  his  papers  no  longer 
existed  ;  he  had  burned  them  all,  and  his  poetry  too.    You 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  309 

did  not  know,  perhaps,  that  he  wrote  verses  ?  I  regret 
their  loss.  I  am  sure  that  among  them  there  must  have 
been  some  not  bad  ones.  But  they  all  disappeared  with 
him,  all  fell  into  the  common  gulf — and  forever.  Nothing 
remains  but  what  is  left  in  the  memory  of  a  few  friends, 
who  too  will  disappear  in  their  turn — " 

Pakline  interrupted  himself  for  a  moment. 

"By  the  way,  the  Sipiagins,"  he  resumed,  "you  remem- 
ber them — thqse  condescending  big-wigs,  so  dignified  and  so 
disagreeable — well,  they  are  now  on  the  very  summit  of 
power  and  renown  !  " 

Mashurina  did  not  remember  the  Sipiagins  at  all  ;  but 
Pakline  so  cordially  detested  them  both,  particularly  the 
husband,  that  he  could  not  deny  himself  the  satisfaction  of 
abusing  them. 

"It  seems  that  their  establishment  is  as  high-toned  as 
possible  !  They  are  forever  talking  of  virtue  there  !  But  I 
have  noticed  one  thing ;  houses  where  they  are  forever 
talking  of  virtue  are  like  rich  chambers  where  they  have 
been  burning  pastilles,  one  can  feel  pretty  sure  that  there  is 
something  to  be  hidden  1  Such  a  strong  perfume  of  virtue 
is  suspicious.  It  was  they,  those  Sipiagins,  who  destroyed 
poor  Neshdanof  " 

"What  is  become  of  Solomine?"  asked  Mashurina. 

She  felt  a  sudden  dislike  to  hear  Neshdanof  spoken  of  by 
this  man. 

"Solomine?  There's  a  smart  fellow  for  you!  He 
steered  his  boat  well.  He  left  his  old  factory  and  took  the 
best  workmen  with  him.  There  was  one  of  them — a  clever 
creature  they  say — his  name  is  Paul.  Solomine  took 
him  too.  Now  they  say  he  has  a  factory  of  his  own,  not  a 
very  large  one,  somewhere  in  the  government  of  Perm, 
and  he  has  established  it  on  the  co-operative  principle. 
You  may  be  sure  he  won't  make  a  mess  of  his  business. 
He'll  make  a  good  thing  of  it.  He's  sharp  and  he's  strong, 
too  ;  he  is  a  great  fellow.  And  above  all  he  does  not  pre- 
tend to  right  all  social  wrongs  in  a  moment.  The  rest 
of  us  Russians,  you  know  what  we  are  like  ;  we  are  always 
hoping  that  something  or  some  one  will  come  to  cure  all  our 
troubles  in  a  moment,  to  heal  our  wounds,  to  take  away  alJ 


3IO 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


our  sufTcrings  as  one  pulls  out  a  bad  tooth.  Who  or  what 
is  to  perform  this  miracle  ?  Will  Darwinism  do  it  ?  Will 
the  commune?  or  Arkliip  Perepeutief ?  Or  a  foreign  war? 
No  matter;  only  let  the  benefactor  come  and  pull  out  our 
tooth  for  us  !  In  reality  all  of  this  means  :  idleness,  want 
of  energy  and  of  reflection  !  But  Solomine  is  not  of  this 
stamp  ;  he  does  not  extract  teeth  ;  he  is  a  clever  fellow  !  " 

Mashurina  made  a  gesture  which  seemed  to  say  "  Requies- 
cat  in  pace. " 

"And  that  young  girl,"  asked  she,  "  I  have  forgotten 
her  name,  who  went  off  with  him,  with  Neshdanof?  " 

"Marianne?  She  married  that  very  Solomine — more 
than  a  year  ago.  At  first  it  was  a  merely  formal  marriage, 
but  now  I  understand  they  live  together  as  man  and  wife. 
Yes  !  " 

Mashurina  made  the  same  gesture  she  had  made  a  pro- 
pos  of  Solomine. 

Formerly  she  had  felt  jealousy  of  Marianne  because  she 
loved  Neshdanof ;  now  she  was  indignant  that  she  had  been 
false  to  his  memory, 

"There  is  a  child,  I  suppose,''  she  said  disdainfully, 

"Perhaps,  I  don't  know.  But  where  are  you  going, 
where  are  you  going?  "  added  Pakline  on  seeing  her  take 
her  hat.  "  Wait,  Snandoulia  will  have  the  tea  ready  in  a 
moment." 

What  Pakline  desired  was  not  so  much  to  keep  Mashu- 
rina as  to  pour  out  to  some  one  all  that  had  been  heavily 
fermenting  in  his  mind.  Since  his  return  to  Petersburg  he 
saw  very  few  people,  above  all,  few  young  people.  His  ex- 
perience with  Neshdanof  had  alarmed  him,  he  had  become 
very  prudent,  he  fled  society,  and  the  young  people  on 
their  side  regarded  him  with  a  suspicious  eye.  One  of  them 
had  even  called  him  informer  to  his  face.  As  to  old  peo- 
ple, he  took  little  pleasure  in  their  society,  so  whole  weeks 
sometimes  passed  without  his  having  occasion  to  speak  a 
word. 

He  did  not  let  himself  out  much  with  his  sister,  not  that 
he  believed  her  incapable  of  understanding  him  ;  quite  the 
contrary  !  He  esteemed  her  intellgence  most  highly.  But 
with  her  he  was  obliged  to  speak  seriously,  and  with  per- 


VIRGIN  SOIL.  "     311 

feet  veracity  ;  and  whenever  he  indulged  himself  in  "play- 
ing trumps  "  as  they  say  with  us,  she  would  begin  to  look 
at  him  in  a  peculiarly  attentive,  almost  compassionate  way, 
which  made  him  feel  ashamed  of  himself.  But  grant  that 
one  can't  always  keep  from  playing  trumps,  even  if  only  a 
deuce  of  trumps. 

All  which  made  life  at  Petersburg  very  disheartening  to 
Pakline,  and  he  sometimes  thought  of  carrying  his  Penates 
elsewhere — to  Moscow,  perhaps. 

And  meanwhile,  a  crowd  of  considerations,  of  reflections, 
of  thoughts,  of  drolland  piquant  sayings  heaped  up  and  col- 
lected within  him,  ifs  the  waters  of  a  mill  when  the  dam  was 
closed.  The  gate  could  not  be  raised,  and  the  water  be- 
came stagnant  and  corrupted.  Then  Mashurina  came,  the 
floodgate  was  raised,  and  the  flow  of  words  poured  forth. 
He  had  something  to  say  about  every  one  and  everything — 
about  Petersburg,  and  life  there,  about  all  Russia.  Noth- 
ing nor  nobody  was  spared.  All  this  interested  Mashurina 
very  little  ;  but  she  did  not  answer  him  nor  interrupt  him, 
which  was  all  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "we  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass  I  as- 
sure you  !  In  society  complete  stagnation ;  everybody  is 
horribly  bored  !  In  literature  an  absolute  nothingness  I 
tabula  rasa!  In  criticism,  if  a  young  progressist  writei 
wishes  to  say  that  '  hens  have  a  faculty  for  laying  eggs,'  he 
must  have  twenty  pages  in  which  to  show  forth  this  pro- 
found truth,  and  even  then  he  will  not  have  explained  it 
quite  to  his  satisfaction  !  In  science,  ha  !  ha  !  ha  1  we  have 
the  learned  Kant  still  with  us ;  but  only  on  the  engineer's 
collars  !  *  In  art  it  is  just  the  same.  Go  to  the  concert  this 
evening,  you  will  hear  the  popular  singer  Agrementaky.  .  . 
He  is  tremendously  successful.  Well,  if  a  stuffed  carp  could 
sing,  if,  I  say,  a  very  fat  and  very  insipid  stuffed  carp  could  ^ 
sing,  it  would  sing  precisely  as  that  gentleman  does, 
which  does  not  prevent  Skoropikin,  you  know,  our  severe 
critic,  from  praising  him   up  to  the  skies  !      '  It  is  very  dif- 


*  Kant  in  Russia  means  a  border  or  piping,  such  as  the  engineers, 
artillery-men,  the  scientific  class  in  the  army  in  general,  wear  upon 
the  collars  of  their  uniforms. 


312 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


ferent,'  he  says,  'from  Western  art  ! '  He  also  praised  up  to 
the  skies  our  wretched  daubers.  '  Formerly '  he  says,  '  I 
too  raved  about  Europe  and  the  Italians ;  but  I  have  heard 
Rossini,  and  I  said,  Eh  !  eh  !  pugh  ! — I  have  seen  Raphael, 
and  I  said.  Eh  !  eh  !  pugh  !  and  all  our  young  men 
ask  nothing  better  and  say,  '  Eh  !  eh  !  pugh  !  "like  Skoro- 
pikim,  and  they  are  delighted,  if  you'll  believe  it.  And 
meanwhile  the  people  are  suffering  terribly,  the  taxes 
have  ruined  them,  and  the  only  reform  that  has  been  intro- 
duced is  that  the  peasant  men  wear  caps  now,  and  the  women 
have  given  up  their  old  style  of  head-dress — and  star- 
vation, and  drunkenness,  and  the  monopolists — " 

Rut  at  that  moment  Mashurina  yawned,  and  Pakline  saw 
he  must  change  the  subject. 

"  You  haven't  yet  told  me  where  you've  spent  these  last 
two  years,  nor  whether  you've  been  back  long,  nor  what 
you've  been  doing,  nor  how  you  got  transformed  into  an 
Italian  countess,  nor  why — " 

"There's  no  need  of  your  knowing  all  that,"  interrupted 
Mashurina ;  "what  is  the  use.?  it  don't  concern  you  any 
longer." 

That  cut  Pakline  ;  but  to  hide  his  mortification  he  laughed 
a  little    forced  laugh. 

"  As  you  please,"  said  he,  "I  know  that  in  the  eyes  of 
the  younger  generation  I'm  behind  the  times.  The  fact  is 
I  can't  consider  myself  any  longer  as  one  of  the — " 

He  did  not  finish  his  sentence. 

"Here's  Snandoulia  with  the  tea.  You  will  take  a  cup, 
and  meanwhile  listen  to  me.  Perhaps  I  may  tell  you  some- 
thing of  interest." 

IVIashurina  took  the  cup  in  one  hand  and  a  lump  of  sugar 
in  the  other,  and  began  to  drink  her  tea  in  the  Russian  fash- 
ion, nibbling  at  her  sugar. 

Whereat  Pakline  laughed  heartily. 

"It  is  very  lucky  that  the  police  are  not  here  for  the 
Italian  countess — what  was  the  name  .?  " 

"  Rocco  di  Santo-Fiume  !  "  replied  Mashurina,  swallow- 
ing a  mouthful  of  boiling  tea. 

"Rocco  di  Santo-Fiume  !"  repeated  Pakline,  "and  she 
takes  her  tea  in  real  Russian  fashion  !     That  is  not  likely  1 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


313 


That  alone  would  be  enough  to  awaken  the  gravest   suspi- 
cions." 

"That  was  just  what  happened  at  the  frontier,"  said 
Mashurina  ;  "there  was  a  man  in  uniform  who  would  not 
let  me  alone  ;  he  asked  me  a  lot  of  questions.  At  last  I  lost 
patience  :    '  Will  you  let  me  alone  !  '    I  said  to  him." 

"In  Italian?" 

"  Not  at  all ;  in  Russian." 

"  And  what  did  he  do  ?  " 

"What  did  he  do  ?     He  went  off,  of  course." 

"Bravo!"  cried  Pakline.  "Oh!  what  a  countess! 
Take  another  little  eup  of  tea.  There  is  one  remark  I  wish 
to  make  to  you.  Just  now  you  were  rather  hard  upon  Solo- 
mine.  Well,  do  you  know  what  I  think  ?  People  like  him 
are  the  real  people.  One  does  not  understand  them  at 
first  ;  but,  believe  me,  they  are  the  real  people,  and  the 
future  belongs  to  them. 

"  They  are  not  heroes,  not  even  those  'heroes  of  toil,' 
about  whom  some  absurd  American  or  Englishman,  I 
don't  recollect  which,  has  written  a  book  for  the  edification 
of  the  rest  of  us  poor  devils  ;  these  are  the  solid  men  who 
come  from  the  people,  and  are  colorless,  somber,  dull-look- 
ing.     We  need  them  now,  and  them  only. 

"  Look  at  Salomine,  for  instance  ;  his  spirit  is  as  clear  as 
the  day,  and  he  stands  straight  and  sturdy  as  an  oak  ! 
That's  a  most  exceptional  thing  !  What  is  the  general  rule 
in  Russia  at  the  present  day?  If  you  are  an  intelligent, 
living,  thinking,  being,  you  are  infallibly  sick  !  Whilst 
Solomine  has  certainly  the  same  thoughts  and  troubles  as 
we  have  ;  and  detests  what  we  detest,  his  nerves,  neverthe- 
less, are  sound,  and  his  body  obeys  him  as  it  ought.  Yes, 
he  is  a  fine  fellow  I 

"Say  what  you  please,  but  a  man  who  has  an  ideal,  and 
who  does  not  waste  words,  who  is  well  educated  and 
springs  from  the  people  ;  who  is  simple  and  at  the  same 
time  very  skillful.   .   .   what  better  would  you  have  ? 

"  And  don't  tell  me,"  continued  Pakline,  who  let  himself 
go  more  and  more,  without  perceiving  that  Mashurina  had 
long  ceased  listening  to  him,  and  that  she  had  again  begun  to 
look  askance  at  him  ;  "  don't  tell  me  that  there  are  among 


314  VIRGIN  SOIL. 

us  at  this  moment  all  sorts  of  individuals  ;  and  of  Slavo- 
philes, and  of  bureaucrats,  and  of  generals,  single  and 
double,*  like  violets,  and  of  epicureans,  by  the  way,  and  of 
imitators  and  of  crazy  heads  I  I  know  a  lady  named 
Fcbronie  Ristdroff,  who  one  fine  day  became  a  point-blank 
legitimist,  and  assured  every  one  that  when  she  died,  if 
they  opened  her  heart,  they  would  find  inscribed  there  the 
name  of  Henry  V. — on  Febronie  Ristdroff" s  heart ! 

"Don't  tell  me  all  this,  my  worthy  friend;  but  believe 
that  our  only  true  path  is  that  followed  by  simple  common- 
place and  clever  people,  by  Solomines  in  a  word  !  Re- 
member at  what  a  moment  I  say  this  to  you — during  the 
winter  of  1870,  at  the  moment  when  Germany  is  making 
ready  to  crush  France,  at  the  moment  when — " 

"Sila, "said  suddenly  behind  him  Snandoulia's  voice, 
"  it  seems  to  me  that  in  your  prophecies  for  the  future  you 
forget  our  religion  and  its  influence.  Besides,"  added  she 
quickly,  "  IMiss  INIashurina  is  not  listening  to  you — you'd 
better  offer  her  a  cup  of  tea." 

"  Ah  !  yes,"  said  Pakline,  cut  short,  "yes,  indeed  won't 
you  have — " 

But  Mashurina,  slowly  raising  to  his  her  somber  eyes,  said 
with  a  thoughtful  air  : 

' '  I  wanted  to  ask  you,  Pakline,  if  you  did  not  have  any- 
where some  of  Neshdanof's  writing  or  his  photograph  ?  " 

"I  have  his  photograph — yQ.%  and  not  a  bad  one  I  think. 
It  is  in  the  table  drawer.  I  will  find  it  for  you  in  a  mo- 
ment." 

He  began  to  rummage  in  the  drawer.  Snandoulia  ap- 
proached Mashurina,  looked  at  her  steadily  for  some  time, 
and  pressed  her  hand  in  a  very  friendly  way. 

"Here  it  is,  I  have  found  it  !  "  cried  Pakline,  handing 
the  photograph  to  Mashurina. 

Then  without  looking  at  the  portrait,  without  thanking 
him,  but  blushing  violently,  she  thrust  the  card  quickly  into 
her  pocket,  put  on  her  hat  and  went  toward  the  door. 

"You  are  going?"  said  Pakline;  "at  any  rate  give  me 
your  address  !  " 

*  Referring  to  the  decoration  of  one  or  two  stars,  according  to  their 
rank. 


VIRGIN  SOIL. 


315 


"I  have  no  fixed  address." 

"I  understand;  you  don't  want  me  to  know  it.  Tell 
me  at  least  one  thing  :  You  are  still  under  the  orders  of 
Vassili  NicholaiVitch  ? '' 

"What  is  that  to  you  ?  " 

"  Or  of  some  one  else,  perhaps  ?  of  Lidor  Sidorovitch  1  " 

Mashurina  did  not  answer. 

"  Or  perhaps  of  some  anonymous  person  ?  " 

Mashurina  crossed  the  threshold. 

"  Yes,  perhaps  of  some  anonymous  person." 

She  closed  the  door  behind  her. 

Pakline  remained,  for  some  time  motionless  before  the 
closed  door. 

"Anonymous  Russia  !  "  he  said  at  last. 


YHE    END. 


BU 


77 


CENTRAL  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
University  of  California,  Saji  Diego 


DATE  DUE 

'  9  Wo 
JliN  2  1  HOfm 

»- 

! 

CI  39 

UCSD  Libr. 

THE  YOUNG  FOLKS'  CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  PERSONS 
AND     PLACES.      By    JouN     D.     Champlin,    Jk.       8vo. 

Illustrated.     $3.50. 

'■A  comjianion  volume  to  his  'Young  Folks'  Cycloiianlia  of  Common  Things,' 
The  two  togothor  form  a  miniature  library  of  useful  information,  biography,  travel, 
ond  story.  The  matter  under  most  of  the  heads  is  necessarily  brief,  but  it  is  pre- 
Bentcd  in  simple  ImiguaRe,  and  all  but  the  most  essential  facts  are  sacrificed  to  what 
may  be  romantic  in  the  lives  of  persons,  or  pictiiresquo  about  places.  It  admirably 
fills  the  place  of  a  classic;>l  dictionary  for  young  people,  and  Buch  illustrations  as 
the  frontispiece  showing  the  sight  of  tli?  Olympic  games  with  the  buildings  restored, 
are  well  chosen.  Anotlur  picture  makes  a  never-to-be-forgotten  impression  of  the 
comp.'irative  heights  of  famous  buildings,  the  great  pyramid  serving  for  a  back- 
ground, and  only  acknowledging  one  \\ork  of  man  of  greater  altitude— the  Cologne 
Cathedral.  The  Sphinx  marks  the  other  extreme.  The  illustrations  add  greatly 
to  the  value  of  the  work,  and  as  a  rule  are  well  done.  In  the  main,  they  (the 
portraits)  answer  every  requirement,  and  some  of  them,  like  those  of  Nordenskjold 
and  Jules  Verne,  aro'spiritod.  This  Is  a  book  that  has  novelty  and  wear  in  it." — 
S.  r.  li-mine. 

"  The  work  is  intended  particularly  for  yo\ing  readers,  as  its  title  indicates,  but 
its  caimcity  for  usefulness  is  by  no  means  restricted  to  them.  With  its  companion 
it  forms  a  cyclopedia  in  two  vohirncs,  which  m;iy  very  well  make  good  the  want  of 
larger  works  of  Che  kind  in  families  wiiere  larger  works  are  not  pre.=ent." — N.  Y. 
Evening  Post. 

THE  YOUNG  FOLKS'  CYCLOPEDIA  OF  COMMON 
THINGS.  By  John  D.  Champlin,  Jr.,  late  Associate  Editor 
of  the  American  Cyclopaidia.  Copiously  Illustrated.  Large 
i2mo,  $3.00;  Sheep,  $4.00;  Half  Morocco,  $5.25. 

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doiibt  whatever  that  in  every  household  into  which  it  shall  come  the  book  will  go  far 
to  educate  children  in  tliat  skilful  and  profitable  use  of  booUs  which  distinguishes 
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FYFFE'S  HISTORY  OF  MODERN  EUROPE.  By  C.  A. 
Fyfpe,  M.A.  Vol.  I.  From  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary War,  in  1792,  to  the  accession  of  Louis  XVIII,  in 
1814.     Large  12mo.     $2.50. 

•'He  depicts  scenes  briefiy,  but  with  words  so  well  chosen  and  so  well  fitted 
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renccB  described.  .  .  .  He  reanimates  the  long-dead  actors  in  the  great 
political  drama,  and  presents  them,  living,  breathing,  quivering  with  the  excite- 
ment of  the  struggle.  .  .  .  Nowhere  have  we  encountered  a  better  example 
of  the  rapid,  picturesque,  dramatic  narrative  of  historic  events;  nowhere  have 
we  seen  a  better  specimen  than  this  of  condensed  historical  writing  for  popular 
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of  his  work.  .  .  .  The  pages  abound  in  true  and  thoughtful  remarks.  .  .  . 
A  rigorous,  thoughtful,  and  well-written  piece  of  work."- iondow  iSat.  Review. 

"  At  brilliant  a  sketch  as  we  have  seen  for  many  a  day." — Nation. 


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BURIED  ALIVE;  or,  Ten  Years'  Penal  Servitude  in  Siberia. 
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